


Stellate Wounds

by wellthisisprettyrisque (collettephinz)



Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: F/M, First Dates, M/M, Slow Build, a lot of technical lingo, and i still can't tag for shit, first MURDERS hahaha, forensics au, frank's rad af, gerard's a comic nerd, god after all these years of writing, i love comics, i'm writing this to study for a final, mikey's perpetually annoyed, murder murder murder, ryan's kinda emotionally constipated, slight reference to abusive relationships, there's a serial killer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-11-17 22:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11278248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/wellthisisprettyrisque
Summary: “So, we’ve got two bodies,” Ryan said, glancing over the crime scene. “Unknown sex and race, as the bodies are entirely too decayed for anyone to tell with a blind eye. They were found by a jogger—”“Fucking joggers.”“—Who oh-so helpfully managed to dislodge the entire mandible after tripping over the skull of one of the unknown victims. This suggests that the bodies have been here for quite some time, and on the surface. We can expect to see extreme signs of decay, but all of the insects should have died out.” Ryan smirked a little. “Good news for you, huh?”“I hate the maggots,” Gerard said with a grimace.Incomplete.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 不要翻译这个。

“All I’m trying to tell you is that Deadpool is the most overpowered character of all time, in any existence, in any creative outlet, ever.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, half of his attention on the road and not on Gerard, who was in the seat beside him. Gerard had probably talked about this particular topic more than five times. Seven, at the least. Gerard really couldn’t blame him for the attitude, but he wasn’t going to stop, either. 

“More so than One-Above-All, more so than Legion, more so than the Oracle, or SCP-1548, or even the fucking Mailbox from Gravity Falls.”

“More than Elizabeth from Bioshock?” Ryan asked, sounding more bored than inquisitive. Gerard had probably listed her as an example from one of the previous renditions of this very conversation. 

“More than anyone!” Gerard cried out, getting excited. That was why he brought up this topic so often. It made him excited. “Because Deadpool is the only character who is so omnipotent that he is able to destroy himself down to the very idea. In Deadpool kills Marvel, he not only kills every single Marvel character ever, even the heartbreaking murder of Spiderman, he kills the fucking writers themselves and erases—”

“His own existence, yes, thank you, Gee, I know.” Ryan tightened, then relaxed his grip on the wheel. “He did it because he knew that his existence as a comic book character was intrinsically a mockery of life or whatever. Deadpool went beyond breaking the fourth wall like most omniscient characters do, and actually manipulated the fourth wall into death. After he also killed Death.” Ryan cut his eyes to Gerard, looking exasperated. “Gee, you’ve got to get out more. You’re like a vinyl I have to flip. It’s entertaining and all the first few play-throughs, but in the end, the music sounds the same.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Gerard grumbled, slumping back in his seat and crossing his arms across his chest. He looked out the window and saw the lake glinting in the rising sun, the trees bright green in the spring weather. Upper New York was beautiful and healthier than the city. He loved traveling up here whenever he had the chance. “… You brought the stuff, right?”

“For the millionth fucking time, yes, I brought the stuff.”

“And the gloves?”

“I brought the fucking gloves.”

“What about that—”

“I brought the fucking flags too, Gerard, I brought everything, I never _don’t_ bring everything because I’m the only person who ever remembers to bring everything. Stop it.”

Gerard pursed his lips. “… Did you bring water?”

Ryan fell silent. “… Shit.”

“You didn’t bring everything,” Gerard sang, smiling impishly. “You didn’t bring it all.”

“I brought your fucking glasses, you ass, so don’t you dare tell me that I’ve failed or whatever.”

Gerard’s hand flew to his face and his eyes widened when he realized he really didn’t have the familiar weight of his lenses resting on his nose. And he was terrified of touching his eyes, so contacts were an impossible feat. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten his glasses. 

Actually, that wasn’t true. He could definitely believe he’d forgotten them. 

Ryan held up the plastic lenses without a glance in Gerard’s direction. “Thank you,” Gerard said, taking them. 

“We’ve gotta get our shit together, Gee,” Ryan said. “Or else no one’s gonna save these kids.”

Ryan pulled the car up to the crime scene. Yellow tape and sirens flashed around them, a familiar, yet jarring red and blue within the deep green of this forest. Gerard could see Officer Way standing off to the side with Chief Hurley beside him. Gerard denied himself his desire to go to his brother’s side and catch up. Mikey was new on the force with a newborn baby and couldn’t afford to be distracted. Gerard could only imagine why New York city officers were all the way in the Catskills, though.

Ryan sighed and parked the car next to a cop’s. “Alright, Gee. What do you think we’ve got this time?”

“I hope they’re older,” Gerard said. “The girl from last week. She was no older than Mikey.”

“Mikey’s here, so I can promise you he’s not gonna be in a body bag at the end of this,” Ryan assured him. Gerard really was horribly predictable. Ryan reached behind the front seats and pulled out his case, the giant yellow bulky thing that really held everything Ryan needed. Gerard’s case was much more sleek, because he felt more like one of those people on TV when his gear wasn’t actually practical. It also meant that he didn’t have nearly the same extensive amount of equipment Ryan did. But that was why Ryan was the senior, and Gerard the novice.

“So, we’ve got two bodies,” Ryan said, glancing over the crime scene. “Unknown sex and race, as the bodies are entirely too decayed for anyone to tell with a blind eye. They were found by a jogger—”

“Fucking joggers.”

“—who oh-so helpfully managed to dislodge the entire mandible after tripping over the skull of one of the unknown victims. This suggests that the bodies have been here for quite some time, and on the surface. We can expect to see extreme signs of decay, but all of the insects should have died out.” Ryan smirked a little. “Good news for you, huh?”

“I hate the maggots,” Gerard said with a grimace. “Two bodies? That’s... That’s not very normal.”

“You’re right,” Ryan agreed. “Most killers dumping numerous bodies take the time to hide the bodies in different places if the bodies are going to be above ground. What we have here suggests someone who was ill prepared for murdering two people, or someone who’s experienced as hell.”

“Experienced?” Gerard repeated. “Wouldn’t cocky be a better word for it?”

Ryan looked to him. “Cocky murderers aren’t smart enough to chop off fingertips.”

He got out of the car, leaving Gerard sitting there in silence. Cutting off the fingers of victims meant this murder was likely premeditated, or the murderer was at least educated. That also ruled out the murderer being ill-prepared, and Ryan knew that. Something was up. Gerard followed Ryan with trepidation, making sure not to initiate eye contact with his little brother, who was interviewing a woman in a jumpsuit. That was probably the jogger who’d found their bodies. An officer led Ryan and Gerard under the crime scene tape.

“No one’s been walking around here, right?” Ryan asked the officer, all business. He was snapping on latex gloves and watching carefully where he was putting his feet. “No official sweep has been made?”

“All that’s been located are the vague directions of various footprints,” the office replied. “They come and go from the opposite end of the scene. Nothing else has been touched by any officer.”

“Too bad my fucking mandible has been detached,” Ryan huffed. 

The officer smirked. “Well, she did say she was sorry, Dr. Ross.”

“Sorry doesn't reattach my mandible,” Ryan grumbled. “Have you noticed any other surrounding signs? Maybe some cloth, some sort of animal scat, anything at all? Just so I don’t have to wade around in this shit for the entire day. Long term body dumping is the biggest pain in the ass.”

The officer hesitated. “Sir, in my honest opinion, I believe that these bodies haven’t been here long enough for those sorts of problems to arise.”

Ryan frowned. “I’ve been told that there’s already large amounts of decay. We’re well past the cycling of the insects. If you’re telling me that I need to get an entomologist down here after all, I’m going to have to—”

“You’re probably just better off looking at the body yourself, sir.”

Ryan glanced to Gerard, raising a brow. Ryan looked miffed, but Gerard could also tell he was insanely curious. Ryan was a wunderkind, yes, and a gifted murder genius, as he was so fondly called by the intellectuals they came across, but he was also still pretty young. That pull of mystery hadn’t really been disenchanted from Ryan’s bones yet, and definitely not Gerard’s. 

“There they are," The cop said, stopping in his tracks. Gerard was sure he stopped because he didn’t want to risk the immediate crime scene. Ryan could be pretty anal about that. Then again, the officer looked a little pale. “We have their identification in the Chief’s car.”

“How did you get the identification without messing with the bodies?” Ryan asked.

“We found them pinned to a tree just at the edge of the tape.”

Ryan shared a frown with Gerard. “Let’s check out the bodies.”

Gerard steeled his jaw and they stepped around a large shrub that had been hiding the scene from view. On the outside, it really did look normal. The bodies had leathery skin, they were partially covered in dirt and leaves, and the mandible of one body was missing, placed delicately off to the side. Gerard tried to make some preliminary estimations as to the sex of the victims, and could already tell that they were more than likely caucasian. 

Ryan crouched near the bodies, looking over the skulls first and foremost. “The bodies aren’t deep,” he told Gerard. “They just on the surface. We won’t need to do much excavation, thank god for that. Can you pull out my duster?”

Gerard went into the bulky yellow case and handed Ryan the fine brush, crouching beside him. “Got your camera, Gee?” Ryan asked. “I’m pretty sure the skulls are detached.”

Gerard moved to pull out his DSLR when he noticed something and paused. “What’s with the orbital sockets?” 

“What about them?” Ryan asked. He leaned over, looking into the eye sockets, then paused. “Those marks…”

“Sharp force trauma,” Gerard said. “At the anterior edges. Does that…”

“We’ll look more in depth once we get these kids back to the lab,” Ryan said. His voice was stiff. “Get those pictures, Gee, I want these bodies back in the city by sundown.”

They stepped away from the bodies. Ryan talked to the Chief and organized the canvassing of the scene while Gerard took pictures of literally everything he could find. As he was photographing the bodies, he saw what first officer had been referring to. “Ryan!” he called out, making sure to take a few steps away. When Ryan joined him, Gerard showed him the photos he’d taken. Ryan squinted at the images. Then he looked to the bodies. 

“The burial itself is fresh,” Gerard said, voicing what Ryan was realizing. “These bodies have decayed past a month, yes, but the burial we’re looking at? This crime scene? It’s probably no more than a few days old.” There was no organic material in the soil, all of the upturned dirt and leaves were fresh, and the surrounding plants were still very much healthy and alive, even the ones nestled beneath the body. “This isn’t the place where these people were killed. They haven’t even been moved here until recently.”

“Well what the fuck,” Ryan breathed. “The officers are canvassing, but by the nature of this scene, I’m doubting they’ll find anything.”

“The identification was on the tree, right?" Gerard asked. “How can we be sure that these bodies are the people identified?”“We’ll get some basics,” Ryan said. “Stature, sex, shit like that. They’re about to finish up here, and then we can look this stuff over in the lab.” Ryan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. A little gross, considering his gloves were still on. “When does Mikey’s shift end?”

“Two hours ago,” Gerard said. They’d arrived in the forest when the sun was rising. Now they were well past lunch. 

“Think you can get him to bring you and I some lunch? I have a feel we’re going to be working for a while.”

“I’ll see what I can wrangle out of him.” Gerard glanced to Ryan. “… I know this may be an insulting callback, but did you remember to bring your go-bag?”

“Got mine and yours,” Ryan replied with a smirk. “I’m telling you, Gee. I’m the only person who always remembers to everything.”

“Except your water.”

“I haven’t even needed the water, so.”

Gerard gaped at him. “Drink your fucking water, Ryan!” he shouted. Officers looked to him and Ryan, all suspicion and surprise. Gerard saw his brother groan and shake his head. Poor Mikey looked so tired, too, Gerard was sure he didn’t want to still be here. “You, you’re gonna get dehydrated and then you’ll get sick again,” Gerard told him, lowering his voice. “Drink, drink.” He reached to the black kit that was still to the side and pulled out his water bottle. “I don’t care that you don't like cooties, you need to drink water, _it's humid_ , Ryan.”

“I’ll be fine,” Ryan said, swatting Gerard away with a petulant glare. “Dude, people are staring.”

“You need to drink, Ryan, you’re gonna die,” Gerard whined. He shoved the water into Ryan’s face again, who sputtered and smacked at Gerard’s chest. 

“Then I’ll die, jesus christ!”

Officer Way came forward, eyes narrowed. “Is there a problem, gentlemen?” he asked, his familiar look of annoyance with Gerard’s antics clear across his face. “Because some of the men are having a problem with your conversation. You realize we have two dead people, right?”

"Sorry, Mikes,” Gerard sighed.

“Sorry, Officer Way,” Ryan said begrudgingly. 

“Are we collecting these poor kids or not?” Officer Way asked.

“They’re not kids,” Ryan said, sounding like he was about to slip into full teacher mode again. “All of the baby teeth are gone and the femurs have, by my general observance, reached an adult length. We’re definitely dealing with victims over the age of seventeen, as the skeletal structure is not sub adult.”

“Oh, joy," Officer Way deadpanned. “Get these kids home.”

Ryan opened his mouth again, like he was ready to repeat his entire lecture, but Gerard interrupted him and took the opportune moment to shove the now-opened water bottle into Ryan’s mouth. As Ryan choked on the downfall of water, Gerard did his best to waylay his brother’s concerns. “We’ll collect the skeletons and get them home before you can even say, uh…” He trailed off, because he didn’t have anything else to say. “We, we’ll get them back.”

“Thank you,” Officer Way said.

He left, and Ryan cut his eyes to Gerard with a snort. “You just got us in trouble.”

“Oh my god, Ryan, I’m not scared of my little brother.”

“It’s not Mikey I’m talking about,” Ryan said, looking in Chief Hurley’s direction. The man was outright glaring at them, arms crossed over his chest, chest puffed out. He was one hundred percent alpha male and threatening and Gerard instinctually hunched his shoulders. Ryan, though, stood tall. He just nodded cooly to Chief Hurley, exuding “I don't give a fuck.” “Help me get the bones,” Ryan said. “It’s gonna be a long night.”

. . .

“I’ll never get used to this smell,” Mikey griped as he burst into the lab, no gloves, no mask, just Arby’s in his hands. Mikey grimaced at how Gerard knew he and Ryan looked. On their knees on stools, bent over two different dead bodies like this was an everyday position to be in. Ryan had his lips so close to the mouth of one of the bodies— a boy, they now knew. Both of the bodies were boys, men, really. With absolutely no subpubic concavity, the absence of a ventral arch, the wide sciatic notch, and the highly protruding mastoid process made it undeniable that their victims were well developed men. Molar growth suggested them to be in their late twenties, and they were both under six feet, but just barely. There was still enough existing tissue in the spine to give them an accurate estimation.

“Are they supposed to look like that?” Mikey asked, getting closer than he probably should.

“They’ve been dismembered,” Ryan replied dryly. 

Mikey paused, like he was trying to figure out how to ask a question without sounding stupid.

“Yes, we found all these pieces together,” Gerard said with a grin, not needing Mikey to really ask. “Which is abnormal. The bodies were dismembered, but they were also placed back together in the correct medical position— palms facing upwards and everything.”

“It was a ritualistic burial as opposed to a mediocre one,” Ryan said. “Whoever did this has a lot of time and experience on their hands. The cuts were clean, made with a finely sharpened object. They were almost clinically accurate. We’re dealing with someone who has extensive knowledge of the human body. Maybe a doctor, or someone with previous medical experience. Maybe a military medical operative.”

“Why military?” Gerard asked. Ryan was his age, yes, but Ryan had also sped his way into his doctorate with the natural drive of a literal genius. Five years for a doctoral degree? Ryan had five years of experience on Gerard, and an added masters in Criminal Studies. He was really the pride and joy of the Forensics department of the NYPD.

“Violence and knowledge of the human body really goes hand in hand,” Ryan explained. “Doctors take oaths and shit, and usually stay sane enough to keep them. But soldiers just watch people die in droves. It fucks you up. Hence, the eyeballs.”

“The orbital markings confirm what we thought?”

Ryan nodded. “Whoever this was gouged their eyes out. And before death, with something sharp enough to mark the bone. These men were blind for at least two weeks before they died. You can tell by the healing in the bone.”

“All I see is two dead dudes,” Mikey remarked. 

“And you say we have no tact,” Gerard huffed.

“Do you want to eat your food next to these dead bodies or what?”

Gerard made grabby hands for the Arby's, ignoring the look of disgust that twisted Mikey’s features. Mikey didn’t understand that Gerard was around dead people nearly twelve hours a day, every day. He had quickly become desensitized to the grotesqueness and morbidity. Ryan took his food without even a glance upwards, still studying one of the bodies as Gerard devoured his fries. He knew he was a loud eater, and exaggerated the smacking of his lips, just to annoy his little brother.

“Why were you at the scene today, Mikes?” Gerard asked, making sure to chew with his mouth open. His brother was seconds from slapping him and it was hilarious. “You’re a city cop. I know why Ryan and I were there, they call Ryan every time they come across someone who’s been dead for more than a minute, but why’d they call you?”

“Chief Hurley and Chief Trohman both seem to have it in their heads that you two behave yourselves a little better when I’m around,” Mikey said, nose scrunched upwards in disdain. Gerard would’ve thought that Mikey would be used to his eating habits by now. 

“Are they wrong?” came a voice from behind Gerard. Gerard jumped and spun around with a squeak as Ryan’s tool clattered to the operating table, the only giveaway to Ryan being startled as well. The voice, a strangled, gravelly voice that sounded like lung cancer, had come from a short guy with dark hair and piercing eyes. He was standing in the doorway of the autopsy room, wearing a wind breaker and a wide, sharp toothed grin. “Trohman usually knows how to handle his men,” the random man commented as he strode into the room like he belonged there. Another man followed him in, this one much less striking and a little more ordinary, while also much taller. “Then again, I’ve heard things about Corpse Collector and his trusty sidekick. Maybe they really do have their hands full.”

“Who are you,” Ryan demanded flatly. “What do you want.”

“Jesus christ, he’s hostile,” the taller man said. 

“Frank Iero,” the short one said. “Jersey, Homicide. This is my partner, James Dewees. We’re here concerning a case you guys picked up today. Two bodies in the Catskills.” He looked to the operating table. “Are these my boys?”

“Not yours yet,” Ryan growled. He was possessive. “And if I’m not wrong, I’d say Jersey is down three forensics. You’ve got literally no one to help you work any sort of angle, especially not with all of the random muggings gone wrong. Who the hell do you think you have over in that city that can do the job better than us?”

“No one,” Detective Iero responded with a shrug. “It’s why I came here, and didn’t make you come to me.”

Ryan visibly relaxed. Now that he knew his bodies weren’t being taken from him, he obviously wasn’t worried about any direction this conversation could take. “Ryan Ross,” he said, introducing himself cooly. “Or as you call me, the Corpse Collector?”

“Not just us,” Det. Dewees said. “Literally everyone working murder and less on the east coast.”

“Bullshit,” Ryan challenged.

“One hundred percent accurate,” Mikey chimed in. Ryan looked offended. Mikey shrugged. “Dude, I've known you for years, and even I can’t explain how freaky you get. Corpse Collector is one of the nicer things they call you.”

“What the fuck,” Ryan deadpanned. “What do they call Gerard?”

Mikey snickered. “Robin.”

“Wait, I’m Robin?” Gerard asked. “Which Robin?”

“Gerard, please,” Ryan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. But Det. Iero was looking him over appraisingly with a glint in his eye.

“I’d said you’re Richard,” the detective said. “You seem like you know way too many puns, and hate drinking.”

“Could be Jason,” Mikey added. “Red is really his colour.”

“Well, then he could be Tim, too, because I doubt he was reanimated in the Lazarus pit.” Det. Iero seemed very entertained by the conversation while his partner seemed patient. Like he knew this would end eventually, even if he didn’t know when. “Is he good with electronics?”

“Bitch can’t even use twitter,” Mikey snorted. 

“Dick it is,” Det. Iero said with way too much satisfaction. 

“Are we just leaving out Damien?” Ryan asked, finally giving in. But he still looked very annoyed.

“Dude, Gee is way too nice to be Damien,” Mikey sad.

“He’s emotionally stunted enough,” Ryan grumbled. “Plus, all of the details you guys are going off of for your labels are surface wounds. If I were to truly relate him to any DC character, I’d say he’s somewhere closer to Superman.”

Mikey threw a brow and Gerard blinked slowly. Det. Iero looked interested. “Why the hell would you say that?”

Ryan looked back down at his body, a signal that whatever he was going to say next would be the end of the conversation. “Gerard doesn’t belong in a place like Gotham.”

Gerard practically melted. “Ryan, that’s so sweet.”

Ryan grunted. “Can someone please tell me why I have Jersey homicide in my autopsy room now?”

“Sure thing, Krypto,” Det. Iero said way too cheerily. Then he slapped down five different thick manilla envelopes onto Ryan’s chaotically organized desk with a smug expression. Ryan squinted at the envelopes, but didn’t say anything. “These are my five couples,” Det. Iero explained. “I have a feeling the two men on your desk are going to be my sixth.”

“And what would make you say that?” Ryan asked carefully. 

“Probably the missing eyeball, the holes in the hands, and the torn achilles tendons,” Det. Iero responded.

Ryan stood up slowly. “How did you know about those?” Gerard exchanged a surprised glance with Mikey. Even Gerard hadn’t known about those findings yet. Ryan was a quick observer, but he always let Gerard find the major details on his own to report for them. It helped with his experience and credibility. It was even more shocking that Det. Iero would know before anyone had been told by Ryan, especially since their preliminary investigation wasn’t even near complete. 

“Because all five of my couples have those same injuries,” Det. Iero explained. “The second I heard about two bodies with missing eyeballs, I had to come check it out. Then I heard about how the bodies were basically drawn and quartered. It couldn’t be anything else. Couldn’t be anyone else.”

“And who is anyone?” Gerard asked.

“My serial killer,” Det. Iero replied, like the very title wasn’t a bombshell of awful. Ryan’s entire body stiffened at the S-K word, then glared at Gerard. Because he knew Gerard was going to be excited, and he definitely wasn’t wrong. Gerard was having a hard time keeping himself from smiling, because again, bomb shell of awful S-K word. Ryan hated serial killers, but Gerard had never been able to experience one on the job. He was seconds from giggling and jumping on his toes. 

“God, Gee, let it out later,” Mikey huffed. 

“Go home, Mikey,” Ryan sighed. “You’re not cleared for this shit.”

Mikey scowled, but left obediently. He wasn’t technically part of the case. He couldn’t discuss or even overhear the details unless he got cleared. “I’m cleared, right?” Gerard asked. “I mean, you’re here for Ryan, so he’s cleared, but I am too, right?”

“Gerard's on this if you want me on it,” Ryan insisted. 

“Then Gerard’s on it,” Det. Iero said. Det. Dewees made a face, but didn’t say anything. “What can you tell me about my boys?”

Ryan shrugged, looking to Gerard. Gerard fumbled inwardly, then outwardly. He scrambled to find his papers, which were underneath his burger, and covered in grease. “Uh, the uh… The couple ranges in their late twenties, and they both underneath six feet by an inch or so. One caucasian, one mangoloid. The, the mangoloid appears to have suffered a femoral fracture when he was prepubescent that was never set correctly. The caucasian broken their nose a year or so ago. Uh…” He flipped over the page. “The caucasian has a tattoo of the letter “B” under his left ankle.” 

He flipped to another page. “Uh… Yeah, just, missing eyes, slit achilles tendon, all the limbs severed. Death by exsanguination, from the slit tendons. Bruises around the wrists, heavy blood pooling at the feet.” He looked up from his notes to see Ryan was watching him with a pleased expression. That meant Gerard had gotten his observations correct, added to the few things Ryan had just mentioned. A thrill of success ran through him. Det. Iero looked contemplative.

“So you’re saying these guys lost their eyes, right? Before they died.”

“At least two weeks before death,” Ryan agreed. “And if you let me check out the bodies you have on ice, I can probably confirm the same thing for them as well. That is, if this really is the MO of your serial killer.”

“I would be happy to show you my couples,” Det. Iero said. 

“You keep using singular possessive pronouns,” Ryan observed. “What about your partner?”

“I’m really just here because he can’t see over the steering wheel,” Det. Dewees said. Det. Iero shot him a murderous glare. “I’m kidding,” Dewees sighed. “I’m here because Chief Trohman wants me here, and that’s it. This is Frank’s case. He’s now lead detective and he’s been working it for nearly a year.”

“A year with no break?” Gerard was shocked. “Is this guy that good?”

“Probably not,” Det. Iero said. “I’ve been working the case for nearly a year, but I’ve only been lead for about a month.”

“What happened to the last guy?” Gerard asked.

“Did you hear about the detective getting shot in the chest three times last month in an ice cream store?” Det. Iero asked. Gerard’s expression sobered. “He was a good man. Good cop. Not a lot of people like him left on the force, so we do the best we can to help tie up his lose ends. Detective Rango and I worked this case together for a long time. I know I can close it for him.”

“What a passionate backstory,” Ryan drawled. 

“We’re happy to help,” Gerard said. “Ryan’s the leading Forensic Anthropologist this side of the country. Whatever you need to know about the bodies, he’ll know. He always does.”

Det. Iero nodded, looking Gerard up and down again, though this time with a little more scrutiny. “And what about you? What can you offer?”

“Gerard’s got psychology down to a T,” Ryan chimed in, surprising Gerard. “It was originally his degree, until he came into my autopsy room and fell in love with the formaldehyde.” Ryan smirked almost lazily at Gerard’s surprise. “While he isn’t going to be the seasoned profiler you would need to testify, he can give you a ton of preliminary psychological assumptions that can definitely point you in the right direction concerning the perp.”

“An unregistered, non-certified psychologist,” Det. Dewees sighed. “Completely against the rules. Definitely sounds like your thing, Frankie.” Det. Iero grinned. It was obvious he didn't like following the rules, especially if he was being shadowed by another detective who looked accustomed to unorthodox methods. Gerard glanced to Ryan and hoped that at least he knew what they were getting themselves into. But Ryan seem completely unbothered.

“I’ll look over the bodies with Gerard a while longer,” Ryan told the detectives. “We’ll brief you on any findings that could help to the identification of these two men. I’d like to look over what you have on your other couples sometime soon, see why you think there’s really a connection here. An MO doesn’t mean anything if there’s not a pattern in the victims. I’m not looking to get dredged into a Zodiac killer.”

“What, bad for your reputation, Corpse Collector?” Det. Iero asked. 

“Isn’t that name such a mouthful?” Ryan asked, making a face of disdain. “Why not go with something easier? Shorter? Bone Man or something like that?”

“Pretty sure that’s already taken,” Det. Dewees said. “Corpse Collector has a nice ring, anyways.”

“Unless we’re to assume you don’t have a a library of bones underneath NYU?” Det. Iero asked, like it was a challenge. Ryan narrowed his eyes. He did have all of his bones stored underneath the university, and he did pride himself on many of the specimens. 

“They’re all paleo or non-forensic,” Ryan defended after a moment.

“Still a bunch of bones,” Det. Dewees said. 

Ryan’s hand twitched on the autopsy table. “Do you want my help or not?”  
“We want it,” Det. Iero said, putting an arm up behind himself, in front of his partner. “No offense intended, dude, it’s just a name. It doesn’t have to mean a damn thing. And if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll never use it around you.”

“Better fucking not,” Ryan said, professionalism breaking for just a moment. “Call me if you find anything. If I don’t hear from you, assume we're going to meet tomorrow around dinner. Leave your contact information on the table on your way out.” He looked back down to the bodies, regaining his composure like lightening. Gerard felt a sense of pride when the detectives look impressed. Ryan was a stoic badass like that.

Det. Iero smirked. “Sounds like a date,” he said haughtily, earning an icy look from Ryan. But he remained unscathed, scribbled his number down on a wayward piece of paper on the desk by the door, and then let himself out, Det. Dewees right behind.

All of a sudden, on Det. Iero’s way out, Gerard suddenly noticed how cute the shorter man's butt was. A faint blush came to his cheeks and he quickly buried the thought. He turned to Ryan and forced a smile. “That wasn’t so bad, right?”

“Fucking can’t stand Homicides,” Ryan huffed. “Think they know the body better than me.”

“Det. Wentz doesn’t think he knows better than you.”

"Det. Wentz wants in my pants,” Ryan grumbled. Gerard snickered and went back to Ryan’s side. “Check out the glenoid beveling on the left side,” Ryan said, shining a flashlight he’d picked up from the side. “Take pictures for me. We’ll need this for identification.”

. . .

Gerard got the text early the next morning from Ryan. The vibration of his phone had sent the device off the nightstand and onto the floor. Through the thin walls, Gerard could hear the pounding of his roommate’s music, a sign that Bert was awake already. Gerard was lucky he’d forgotten to shut off the sound of his phone, or he would’ve missed the text completely and kept sleeping. 

_iero wants us at pearl diner in fidi by 9_

Gerard groaned loudly, only to be silenced by Bert fist on the wall. His roommate had a delicate ritual when it came to his days off. Almost all of it centered around absolutely no human contact whatsoever. The joys of working retail, Gerard could imagine. He sighed and rolled out of bed, grabbing his shoes from the floor first, then haphazardly throwing on a shirt. He wasn’t sure if the stain on the front was cream cheese from a bagel or something else, but he didn’t have time to care. It was eight thirty and traffic was always a nightmare. He pulled on shorts and then some sort of jacket and then was out the door with his keys and wallet in between his teeth. 

He knew where he needed to end up. Pearl Diner was a cute little place, sandwiched between skyscrapers and sticking out like a sore thumb. Gerard and Ryan had discovered the place for themselves back in uni, when Gerard had been studying underneath Ryan. Gerard loved the place for the atmosphere. Ryan loved it for the egg and bacon sandwich.

Miraculously, Gerard got a cab after only fifteen minutes of standing in the cold. It was insane that he'd been able to flag a cab at all, especially considering he wasn’t a sexy woman in tight clothes. 

The diner wasn’t very crowded, as it was a weekday and the weather was getting colder. Gerard shuddered and wrapped his flimsy jacket tighter around his body as he bustled inside the warm diner, looking around for his friend. But the only person he recognized was Detective Iero, sitting in a booth in the back with a cup of coffee in his hands. Gerard only just now noticed the ink decorating his fingers. With a deep breath, Gerard approached the booth and slid inside, sitting across from Detective Iero.

“Where’s your partner?” Gerard asked. 

Det. Iero snorted. “Hotel. Where’s yours?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard replied. He paused as a cup of black coffee was set down in front of him by a tired looking waitress. “… Detective Iero, I—”

“Call me Frank,” the detective interrupted. “You need cream with that? Sugar?”

“Not this early in the morning,” Gerard said. “Thanks, though, uh. Frank.”

Frank grinned widely at the sound of his name. “So, you’re what? The Corpse Collector’s apprentice? He’s apparently decided you’re not a Robin, but you’ve still got to be some sort of sidekick, right? What about Superboy? Connor is pretty cool, though he’s also a bit of a tool. Maybe Kid Flash? Wally West?”

“How do you know so much about the DC comics?” Gerard asked. “Detectives are always jocks and stuff. They don’t know much beyond the movies.”

“I had pretty good parents,” Frank said with a wink. “Maybe you’re not a sidekick after all. Maybe you’re more Barry than Wally. Or maybe even Superman himself, like Dr. Ross said.” Frank stirred his coffee idly with a toothpick. “Corpse Collector seemed to think pretty highly of you. Almost deserving of the title of one of the most righteous men in comic book history. To the point of naivety.”

“I think you’re reading a little too deeply into who I am,” Gerard admitted with a sheepish smile. “I’m not Superman or Robin or even Gordon. I’m just… Just Gerard. A guy who likes comics and dead stuff.”

Frank raised a brow. “In my line of work, I’ve learned that no one ever is who they say they are.”

Gerard couldn’t respond. 

Ryan slid into the booth beside him. He had a bruise across his left cheek and bags under his eyes. Gerard took in a sharp gasp, eyes widening. “Ryan, he—”

“I fell,” Ryan interrupted. Total bullshit, but Gerard knew better. Ryan wasn’t familiar with Frank and he wouldn’t want to talk about anything personal in front of anyone he didn’t know. “What did you want to tell us?”

Frank was staring at Ryan’s face like he was remembering something awful. He visibly shook himself and lied a simple manilla envelope down on the table. He sat back, watching them both with thinly veiled interest. Ryan made a face— he hated early mornings more than Gerard. He opened the envelope, but didn’t look over anything. He handed the papers to Gerard, eyes narrowed at Frank, like he was daring him to mention the bruise across his delicate face.

Gerard looked over the papers. “… Richard Hammond and Anthony Hammond,” he read. Two faces stared up at him, both of them mugshots. Anthony was probably Korean with dark hair and dark eyes, and Richard was white with blond hair and striking green eyes. Anthony was smiling in his mugshot and Richard looked very tired.

Gerard flipped to the next page and found a marriage certificate. “Oh.”

Frank nodded. “They were married for five years. Had a daughter for four.”

“Where’s the daughter?” Ryan asked stiffly. He always had a soft spot for orphaned kids. 

“She’s with child protective services,” Frank replied. “… As of half a year ago.”

Gerard frowned, looking down at the papers. “Says here these two have only been reported missing for two months.”

“Exactly.” Frank lied down more manilla. “You wanted me to give you my connection between all the victims? Here it is.”

“We don’t even know if these two men are our bodies,” Ryan sighed. 

“Was the asian left handed?” Frank asked.

Ryan narrowed his eyes. He leaned over to study Anthony’s file. His frown deepened. “We still need to have someone solidify the identification,” Ryan said, even though Gerard could tell Ryan was pretty much sold on the identities. “This is a serial killer. Shouldn’t be hard to get a DNA analysis, just to be sure.”

“But I know these guys are the two you have in that lab,” Frank insisted. “So I’m gonna keep working on the assumption that it is then. Then you can understand what they all have in common.”

Gerard opened the envelopes and found the pictures of five more couples, all of them married. “Heather and Ron Bostwick, Sarah and Jamal Lindgrin, Molly and Charlie May, Kristina and Lloyd Jones, and Margo and Francesco Alfonsini,”

“All of them positively identified, with DNA,” Frank said, smiling cheerfully at Gerard as he read the names, like he was proud of his list. Then again, all of that positive identification for how the bodies were ruined would make anyone proud. Without fingerprints and botched dental records, knowing the names of so many dead was truly a feat. “All of them were reported missing three months before they were found. And all of them missing their eyes, bleeding out from their ankles, and found cut into pieces.”

“So all the physiological standpoints are the same,” Ryan said. “What about the rest? Why does the child in CPS matter?”

“The Lindgrins and the Jones both have their kids in CPS too,” Gerard said, reading quickly. “The Mays reported their runaway more than once, but…” He skimmed a little faster, then shook his head. “The Bostwicks and Alfonsinis don’t have any problems with their kids.”

“Not on paper,” Frank replied. “But the two kids of the Bostwicks were staying with their grandparents for months before the Bostwicks were ever taken. And the Alfonsinis?” Frank reached out, turning a few pages for Gerard. His calloused fingertips brushed gently over Gerard’s knuckles and there was an unexpected rush of heat through Gerard’s body at the touch. Gerard’s breath hitched and he didn’t understand what his body was trying to tell him. Maybe he had imagined the feeling. Then Frank pulled out a death certificate. “This is all that’s left of their son.”

“Shit,” Ryan said, sounding more tired than ever. He pushed his palms into his eyes. “… So we’ve got a bunch of shitty parents. I don’t know what kind of upbringing you had, but we currently have a plethora of shitty parents right now. Just because these guys fucked up doesn’t mean it’s part of the MO.”

“Take a look at the addresses,” Frank said. “You guys know anything about Jersey?”

“I grew up there,” Gerard murmured, looking over the addresses like Frank had said. Frank’s eyes lit up. 

“Where?”

“Summit,” he replied. “Union county.”

Frank grinned. “I’m from Belleville. Small world.”

Gerard smiled back, momentarily caught up in the brightness of Frank’s eyes. He just seemed like the kind of guy who went into everything headfirst and with a smirk. It was rather infectious, though maybe he was also under the affect of having met someone from near his home for the first time in a long time.

“Where are you from?” Frank asked Ryan, tearing his eyes from Gerard like he didn’t want to. But they weren’t alone and they were working on a case. This was important.

“Vegas,” Ryan said with more than a little bitterness. 

“Wow.” Frank gave a low whistle. “I could make the joke, but I'm sure you’ve heard it more times than your own name. Any reason you came all the way across the damn country for a bunch of bodies? Cause you could get just as much murder in LA.”

“I was avoiding a funeral,” Ryan replied, his expression as stiff as his voice. Gerard’s expression fell a little, knowing all too well what he was referring to. He nudged Ryan’s knee with his own under the table, just a small tap to let him know he was there. Ryan relaxed minutely. 

“Fair enough,” Frank said, knowing something had passed between Ryan and Gerard. His eyes slanted just slightly in suspicion. Sometimes, Gerard hated that he was always surrounded by extremely preceptive people. 

“You were saying something about the addresses?” Gerard said, wanting to bring attention away from the tension rising. He looked to the pages again. “… Oh. They’re all from Short Hills.”

“And all of them were making at least six figures a year,” Frank said. 

“Meaning they probably had really pricey houses,” Gerard said.

“Meaning whoever kidnapped these people knows how to get through a decent security system,” Ryan sighed. “Okay, so, not only do they have pretty abnormal knowledge of the human body, to the point where whoever this is knows what kind of tool to use to provide the cleanest cut through bone, and not only do they seem to have some sort of contact with child protective services, they also know the workings of at least one high end security system.”

“A jack of all trades,” Gerard murmured, looking over the files. 

“Gerard and I technically are no longer part of this case, unless you file a request for us,” Ryan told Frank. “None of the victims are in our jurisdiction, except for the two men just found. But they don’t live in our area. Where have all the others been found?”

“Various parks around the state,” Frank replied. “Bostwicks were the Dade battleground. Then there was the national forest, for both Lindgrins and Jones. The Mays were in Swartswood and the Alfonsinis were found in Liberty Park. They were the first couple we found.”

Gerard’s eyes went wide. “What? How! That park has no trees! It’s out in the open, like, way in the open! How the hell did he manage that?”

“He tossed the bodies over the fence,” Frank said. “We found them crumbled on the side together.”

“A hasty drop,” Ryan said. “Very common for a first kill. All that panic and lack of experience can lead to less than skilled drops. But he’s on his sixth. He knows what he’s doing now.” Ryan sat back in the booth. Frank looked a little freaked out that Ryan was paying the serial killer a backhanded compliment. “Have any other couples been reported missing?” Ryan asked after a split second of thought. 

“None from that area,” Frank said. “The thing is? He dropped the body in the catskills. In a completely different state. That’s making me think he’s left Jersey.”

“You think he moved to New York?” Gerard asked. 

“What else can we think?” Frank asked. “Maybe we got to close in back in Jersey. Maybe he needed a change of scenery. Maybe he got the Broadway bug and thinks he can be a star. Point is, he’s suddenly dropped a body in New York and that tells me that something big has changed. And that could be a huge problem for everyone in your city.”

“We need to bring this to the attention of Chief Trohman,” Ryan said. 

“Or at least Detective Wentz,” Gerard said. Ryan groaned loudly at the name, but Gerard ignored it. “He’s Homicides here, he needs to know what could be coming.”

Frank nodded. “Fair point. When can I catch him?”

“Come to the station tomorrow morning,” Gerard said. “We’ll be there for a debrief on what Ryan found in the body. You can bring in all the shit about the serial killer. Detective Wentz is a smart guy, and kinda weird, but he knows when to admit someone else is right. He’ll work with you.”

“I don’t want to work with Wentz,” Ryan moaned. “Especially not when I look like this.”

Gerard worried his lower lip between his teeth, but knew better than to apologize. Ryan sighed dramatically, then stuck his hand out across the table. Frank took his hand and shook after a hesitant second. “I look forward to working with you, Detective Iero,” Ryan said dryly. “As of now, I have to go home and prepare myself for dinner and work tomorrow. I’ll hand you my formal report on the men tomorrow. Get me some DNA.”

He slid out of the booth, steps weary and downtrodden as he left the diner. Gerard realized that it was now raining. 

Frank watched Ryan go too. “… Seems like all the smart ones are messed up.”

Gerard nodded. 

Frank let out a sigh and looked down at the menu. They hadn't even ordered food, and Ryan was already out the door. “Well, hey,” he said, glancing at the pictures of food that suddenly didn’t seem all that appetizing. “Wanna get coffee sometime together?”

Gerard blinked owlishly across the table to the other man. Maybe he hadn’t imagined the electricity of Frank’s touch to his knuckles. “Sure.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: described abusive relationship

Gerard played with the napkin that had Frank’s phone number. He twirled it between his fingers, watched how the blue ink stretched across the white and distorted the numbers. There was a nervous shake to his hands, but nothing he wasn’t used to. He tried to remember the last time he'd been on a date, and failed. The elevator he was in gave a familiar jolt and he stepped out into the third basement floor of the police department. A slow smile spread across his face as he walked down the hall on autopilot, still staring at the numbers.

Frank was cute.

Frank was really fucking cute. And also hot, in that dangerous sort of way most men who were required to carry a gun were. Gerard could picture himself tangling his fingers through that dark hair, falling into bed with the man and making a few bad decisions. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been interested in nerdy-as-fuck Gerard Way, and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass. Especially not when they were as attractive as Detective Frank Iero.

A faint flush grew on his cheeks as his brain tried to picture the detective without clothes. Gerard was at work. This definitely wasn’t the place for those sorts of thoughts. 

Gerard pushed into the lab and faltered when he saw Ryan. It had been an hour or so since the diner, and Gerard knew Ryan had mentioned going home. So why the hell was he here, looking over papers that were only half holding his attention? Gerard could see that the bruise was a little darker than he’d last seen it. That meant that Ryan had gotten the bruise earlier this morning. 

“Hey,” he greeted, rapping his knuckles softly on the door. Ryan jumped and knocked a pen onto the floor. He didn’t go to pick it up, just squinted at Gerard like he needed glasses. “You okay, Ry?”

“I’m fine,” Ryan said after a moment. “I, uh. I didn’t think you’d be coming in today.”

“I wanted to write my report,” Gerard replied, moving into the lab to sit at the desk next to Ryan’s— his own desk. He had a Captain America figure standing next to a Wonder Woman bobble head. He also had ten different shades of highlighters. “Figured I should have something for Detective Wentz to read tomorrow, and I know how much you hate writing the formal stuff.”

“Wentz is gonna be here in five minutes,” Ryan said. Gerard looked to Ryan, really looked at him. 

He could see the exhaustion that hadn’t been there yesterday underneath Ryan’s eyes. There was a darker glazed expression on his face, like he was thinking about something worse than the bodies he was studying. Gerard glanced down and saw Ryan was looking over the files Frank had left on his desk yesterday. Gerard took in, then let out a deep breath to steady himself. If Det. Wentz was to really be here in five minutes, then Gerard wasn’t going to ask about the bruise. He knew Det. Wentz would do the job for him. 

“Frank asked me out,” he said instead, folding the napkins down on his desk. Ryan’s eyes shot to it like a bullet, his expression softening for a split second. 

“Gonna do it?” Ryan asked.

“This is the first person who’s been interested in me since college,” Gerard snorted. “I’d be dumb not to.”

Ryan nodded. “The dude sure is a looker.”

“He’s fucking cute,” Gerard agreed, giggling a little. “He, he likes comic books. And he’s smart. That’s really all I know, but it’s kinda totally enough already, you know? And when he touches me, I just…”

Ryan turned in his seat, suddenly interested. “When he touches you?” he repeated. “Did you two have sex already?”

Gerard blushed deeply. “What the fuck, Ryan, we met, like, two days ago.”

“So? You slept with your roommate the day you met him in that art class.”

“That, that doesn’t count.”

“Oh my god, it totally fucking does.”

“I hate that you know that about me,” Gerard lamented. 

“So when did he touch you?” Ryan pushed.

“Just, he handed me a folder. And he moved some papers around.” Gerard shrugged. “He just… He seems really nice and he’s hot and we have a weird connection that I don’t think anyone else can see. Does that mean it’s even there? But it can’t be one-sided, he wouldn’t have asked me out if it was.”

Ryan snorted. “You’re the psychologist, dude. I can’t help you.”

“I’m gonna go to coffee with him,” Gerard said. “That’s what matters.”

Ryan’s eyes bore into Gerard’s soul. “Be careful, Gee.”

Gerard couldn’t say anything. He just nodded. He heard loud, graceless footsteps coming down the hall to the lab and knew who it was.

Detective Wentz swung himself into the room, grabbing the doorframe like it was a streetlight he was dancing around. His teeth shone almost as brightly as his expression. He winked lecherously at Gerard before opening his mouth to say something to Ryan, but when Ryan turned to face him, all of that brightness fell away like he’d witnessed a car crash. Weariness tugged at the edges of his face and he only stared at Ryan for a few long seconds. 

“You’re ending it,” Det. Wentz said after his moment of reflection. “Right? You’re breaking up with him tonight.”

Ryan sat back in his chair, letting Gerard see how he narrowed his eyes. “If I wasn’t, what would you even do?”

“But you are, right?”

Ryan sighed. “Tonight. Over dinner. I’m expecting it to go terribly.”

Det. Wentz looked relieved regardless of how bad those news were. “You know my home is open to you,” he told Ryan. “You can just give me a call and I’ll pick you up, I swear. Just call me and I’ll come running. Stay as long as you need.” Gerard really didn’t understand Ryan’s annoyance with Det. Wentz considering he was such a kind and caring person. Maybe it was just Ryan’s inability to really accept help with grace.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” was all Ryan said. “You’re here for a reason, Pete. One that goes beyond personal business.”

Det. Wentz sighed, casting a long suffering look to Gerard, as if saying _see what I have to deal with? What a basket case._ Gerard could only shrug, because Ryan had to develop his genius from a few tragedies. That was what DC had always told him. “I’m here because you called me, Ry. Anything you need?”

Gerard expected Ryan to ask questions about the case, about Frank and maybe even fill Pete in on what kind of shit was about to thrown onto his desk. Gerard sat back in his own chair, ready to put in his two cents wherever Ryan signaled. “Does everyone here call me Corpse Collector?” Ryan asked, throwing Gerard off and earning himself an even heavier sigh from Det. Wentz.

“We were hoping you wouldn’t find out,” Det. Wentz said. “It’s not a very nice name, I know.”

“Have you ever called me that?” There was a dangerous edge to Ryan’s voice. Gerard couldn’t imagine Det. Wentz ever calling his golden boy something like that. Especially not with all the mother hen-ing the other man did. 

“Of course not,” Det. Wentz said, offended. “We’ve closed more cold cases in the past five years than we gad in the previous decade thanks to you and Gerard. What kind of person would I be if I called my winning stallion an inbred behind the stables?” Gerard was pretty sure that was an underhandedly insulting analogy. “It’s mostly the patrol guys, and you know how they are. It’s tough out there. I’d rather they say mean playground names than blow their own faces off, you know?”

Ryan pulled a grimace, and Gerard knew Det. Wentz had him beat. Ryan wouldn’t ever put his petty annoyance with a name above something like that.

“Anything else, Ry?” Det. Wentz asked.

“You’re gonna get a serial killer on your desk tomorrow,” Ryan said. “Det. Iero from Jersey thinks his guy has moved out here. Those two bodies me and Gee went to up in the skills? The case with Trohman.”

“Oh my god, I’m so excited,” Det. Wentz deadpanned. He sighed for a third time and rapped his knuckles on the edge of the door. “I’ll be expecting a stellar report from you both, then. Let me know if you need anything else. Night, Ryan. Gerard.”

“Night, Det. Wentz,” Gerard said.

“Oh my god, kid, it’s Pete,” Pete groaned as he left. 

Ryan turned back to his desk with a grumpy expression. Gerard worried his lower lip between his teeth before saying, “at least this time he didn’t try to woo you.”

“I want a normal job,” Ryan lied. 

Gerard cracked a grin and turned back to his own report. He felt a flurry of excitement make his fingertips twitch as he realized his date with Frank was in only a few hours.

. . .

“So I’ve never actually been to New York for anything other than work,” Frank said as he and Gerard sat side by side on a bench in Central Park. They’d had a full dinner at a vegetarian sub place Gerard had looked up for them and then gone on a short drive in Frank’s car for a long walk in the park. Frank was looking up at the trees, at the soft moonlight filtering between the leaves, and Gerard was looking at Frank. “I’ve always wanted to come into the place, but I know all the statistics, you know? All the rape and murder and mugging and shit that happens in this park. Especially after dark.”

Gerard shrugged. “If it helps, I know a few people who would be hellbent on avenging our deaths.”

Frank chuckled, the sound husky and warm. Gerard knew the guy had to smoke, there was no way he could have such a gravelly voice and not be risking himself to the throes of lung cancer like Gerard often did as well. “Think we’d be an origin story?” Frank asked him. Their hands were just inches apart on the wood of the bench. Gerard could just shift in his seat and press their fingertips together. “Who do you think would go vigilante?”

“Your partner probably would,” Gerard murmured. He was still studying Frank’s face as Frank studied the world above. “Detective Dewees. He seemed fondly protective of you.”

“James and I go way back,” Frank hummed. “Think Ryan would go all Batman?”

Gerard shook his head. “Ryan has this whole peace and love thing, though you would never be able to tell by looking at him. He’s never thrown a punch in his life. But I think my brother would.”

“You’ve got a brother?”

Gerard nodded. “He’s on the force. Michael, but everyone calls him Mikey, and he’s my younger brother. He has a wife and kid, they’ve got an apartment in Brooklyn.”

Frank let out a low whistle. “Is he as hot as you?”

Gerard’s cheeks flushed and he giggled because he didn’t know how else to react. He was rather unseasoned when it came to dating and flirting, because he was literally the biggest fucking nerd. He was every nerdy stereotype you could think of. He’d been on a date once, had a single online relationship that had ended after three months, and his first orgasm had been to the thoughts of Bruce fucking Wayne. He was ridiculously bad at this sort of thing and he knew it had to show, especially when Frank looked over at him with a slightly confused expression.   
“Gerard,” Frank said. “Am I reading into any of this wrong?”

“What?” Gerard asked, still giggling, albeit a little more nervously.

“Was that thing I felt between us back at the diner bullshit? Am I imagining things?”

Gerard winced. “Have you ever thought that maybe I’m just really bad at this sort of thing?”

Frank laughed, bright teeth flashing in the darkness, before he swooped in and pressed his lips to Gerard’s with a rumbling noise of affection. Gerard gasped against his lips, taken completely by surprise, but didn’t pull away. His technique was the definition of lacking, but now he knew for a fact that Frank smoked, and Gerard was twice more addicted to nicotine as he’d been before. 

Gerard’s hand lifted from the bench, abandoning the need to touch Frank’s hand in favor of tangling his fingers in Frank’s hair. The dark hair was softer than it looked, and when Gerard tugged just the right way, Frank groaned against his lips. The vibration startled Gerard and he pulled back a centimeter with a high pitched sound before Frank took him by the jaw and dragged him back into the kiss. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Gerard blurted out, unable to filter anything when Frank’s tongue grazed his bottom lip. Frank chuckled into Gerard’s mouth, the intimacy of the action making Gerard shudder. Frank’s fingers were digging firmly in Gerard’s jawline, the forceful and calloused touch searing itself into Gerard’s memory. He hoped there would be bruises, something to remember, to show off. He hoped Frank would see the bruises tomorrow when they worked together and remember Gerard’s fumbling compliment in the middle of the empty park. 

“Could say the same for you, beautiful,” Frank murmured, voice low. He pulled back just an inch, staring into Gerard’s eyes for a long moment before leaning back in to reconnect their lips. But before they could touch again, Gerard’s phone went off, loud and jarring. 

“That’s Ryan’s ringtone,” Gerard said, and normally, he would be cool with letting Ryan go to voicemail, but the memory of Ryan’s conversation with Pete today at work set off warning bells. “I, I think it could be important.” Frank nodded, looking one part understanding, and two parts disappointed. Gerard darted in for a quick peck on the corner of Frank’s mouth in apology. Then he answered the phone. “Ryan, hey, uh, what’s up?” He was going for nonchalant, not wanting Ryan to hear the burgeoning arousal Gerard was currently dealing with. “Is this an emergency?”

_“He locked me in the bathroom and I can’t get out.”_

Gerard was pretty sure he’d never gone flaccid that quickly in his life. He knew his panic had to show on his face, because Frank suddenly sat up straighter, attentive and slipping into what Gerard could only describe as work mode. “Ryan, you can’t get out?” Gerard repeated. “What do you mean?” He was pretty sure he could hear someone screaming in the background, far away and muffled. He wondered if the cops had been called yet.

 _“He locked me in the bathroom and I can’t get out.”_ Ryan’s voice was a whisper, like he didn’t want anyone to know he was on the phone. Gerard was sure that had to be the unfortunate truth. _“I, I tried to break it open, but there’s something in the way. Can’t even pick the lock.”_ Gerard hated that Ryan had lock picks in his wallet for reasons like this. _“Gee, I’m so sorry, could you come get me?”_

Gerard nodded. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he promised.

_“Please hurry.”_

Ryan hung up before Gerard could respond. Gerard’s grip on his phone was white knuckled.

“What happened?” Frank asked.

“I, I’m so sorry,” Gerard said. “Ryan needs me, I have to…” He swallowed hard. “This isn’t one of those lame SOS things, either, I didn’t set this up, Ryan has a pretty bad relationship right now and he really needs my help. I am so sorry.”

Frank nodded. “How are you gonna get to him?”

Gerard ran all the options through his head. He couldn’t wait for an Uber, didn’t have time to catch a taxi, he couldn’t walk from here. Ryan had sounded borderline calm, but he always sounded like that. The screaming was what made Gerard nervous about how much time he had. 

“I’m only asking because I have a car,” Frank told him. 

“Could you please drive?” Gerard asked, jumping on the offer. “I swear, I’ll pay for gas, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll give directions, we just gotta—”

Frank was up and off the bench before Gerard could even finish, pulling his keys from his pocket and cutting his eyes to the direction of where is car was parked. Gerard and Frank all but ran to the car, and the ride to Ryan’s place was tense and near silent, save the occasional direction to turn. Gerard couldn’t help but feel guilty. He really meant it when he said he would do anything to make up for this.

When Frank pulled up in front of Ryan’s apartment and moved to get out of the car, Gerard put a hand on his arm to stop him. “I am sorry,” he said, letting all of his remorse seep into his voice. “For whatever you see up there. I’m sorry.”

Frank sent him a small smile. “For what it’s worth, I worked domestics before homicides.”

“Has it ever been someone you’ve known?”

Frank nodded. “My best friend from high school. Her husband tried to kill her.”

Gerard took in a long breath, then released Frank’s arm. “Thank you.”

Frank got out of the car and Gerard followed. Ryan’s apartment was on the first floor. The front door was locked, so Gerard rapped his knuckles gently on the wood of it, bracing himself for anything. The door was thrown open by just who Gerard had expected to see.

He honestly couldn’t say he'd never seen Brendon this angry before. When Gerard had first met the couple, Brendon had been a kind, loving person, the sort of man that made you shake your head at some of the worse shit he said because you thought he didn’t really understand what he was saying at all. Gerard wasn’t sure what had happened, because Ryan and Brendon were high school sweet hearts until a year ago. 

Then Brendon had come home from some performance and screamed Ryan’s face off with Gerard sitting in the living room. Gerard would never forget the shock on Ryan’s face. Gerard couldn’t even remember what the shouting had been about, though it had started over an absent dinner that shouldn’t have been expected because Ryan had never been able to cook. 

It only got worse from there. Gerard had started avoiding Ryan’s apartment and opting for the man to come to his own place simply because being around Brendon felt like being slowly poisoned and drowned in rage. The man was so angry these days and nothing Ryan ever tried helped him, nothing Gerard ever suggested was done. There was only so much anyone could do, and Gerard had been waiting for a long time for the final shoe to drop. He just wished it could have been without any sort of violence towards Ryan. That had been an unimaginable outcome. 

In the doorway, Brendon’s eyes were dark with fury. He outright scowled at Gerard, barring teeth like a violent dog. “What the fuck do you want?” Brendon demanded. It was so odd to hear such a talented voice being used with the intention to hurt. Brendon was a rising Broadway star and Ryan had always been his biggest fan. Now Ryan was locked in the bathroom with bruises and Brendon was screaming. 

“I’m here for Ryan,” Gerard said, doing his best to stand his ground and not show how intimated he was. 

“Ryan’s not fucking here, so fuck off,” Brendon snapped, shutting the door. Frank’s foot shot out and he wedged his toe between the door and the wall, keeping Brendon from shutting it. “Oh what the—”

“The thing is, we got a phone call from Ryan,” Frank said, sounding way more calm and collected than Gerard could ever hope to. “And you know, he was sounding pretty scared. And he also said something about where he was, which is why I’m gonna have to call bullshit on the whole “Ryan isn’t fucking here” thing.”

“Stay the fuck out of my house,” Brendon bit out as Frank’s hand pushed at the door. Then Frank’s badge was being flashed in Brendon’s face.

“Probable cause,” Frank said. “I’m coming in there.”

“What the fuck, you’re a fucking cop?!”

Frank had shoved the door open, just barely missing Brendon’s already fucked nose. Gerard hurried in after him, eyes taking in the damage. The lamp that had used to be by the sofa was shattered on the floor, and two dining chair tables were overturned. Three photos had fallen from the wall. There was a smatter of blood on the counter. Gerard took in all the details like a crime scene and one word stared back at him— domestic abuse.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Frank asked, watching Brendon like he was waiting for the guy to launch himself at them. “Is there a first aid kit?”

Gerard’s blood ran cold at the thought of Ryan needing first aid. He just shook his head and moved down the hall to where the master bathroom was. Going through Ryan and Brendon’s bedroom was a shock. The bed was a mess and there was an obvious trail made by the comforter and sheets leading to the bathroom. Gerard could picture Ryan being thrown onto the bed and scrambling off, crawling across the floor and hiding in the bathroom. There was a chair wedged up against the doorknob, so that explained how Ryan couldn’t get out. 

Gerard reached for the chair right as a pair of knuckles landed across his jaw. He was temporarily blinded by the pain and only heard the shouting of a fight. Gerard’s fingers came up to graze gently across the inflamed skin on his face. There was a bit of blood. Brendon really knew how to hit. He looked back to Brendon and saw he was being pinned to the ground by Frank with the end of a taser to his side.

“Assault of an employee of the state,” Frank was saying. “Domestic violence, verbal assault of an officer, attempted assault on an officer.” He pulled out his handcuffs, and Gerard was wondering when Frank had put all of that on in the car. “You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you.”

Gerard should not have found that so hot. 

Brendon lashed out, kicking his leg up and hitting the heel of his boot against the back of Frank’s skull. All of that Broadway dancing had made him flexible. Frank snarled and slammed his elbow into the side of Brendon’s head. “Stop fucking struggling!” he shouted. “Gerard, get Ryan!”

Gerard scrambled to his feet. He tore the chair aside and threw open the bathroom door. Ryan was sitting on the floor, wide eyed and watching Gerard with fear like he half expected it to be someone else. There was no way Ryan could have missed the struggle outside, though. Gerard joined Ryan on the floor, looking him over and stopping when he saw the blood dripping down Ryan’s forehead from his cranium.

“I’m okay,” Ryan said. “Knocked my head on the counter. I’m okay.”

“Let’s go,” Gerard said, lifting Ryan as he stood. 

“I’m not pressing charges,” Ryan breathed, and okay, Gerard was going to have to talk to Ryan about that later. For now, he just had to get Ryan out of the apartment. “All my shit is packed and by the door. I don’t think he saw it.”

“Frank, let’s go!” Gerard called out. 

“I’ve got a fucking suspect on the floor, I need to call for backup!”

“I’m not pressing charges!” Ryan shouted. 

“What the fuck?!” 

“Frank, let’s go,” Gerard stressed. Ryan was leaning against him a little more heavily than he would have liked. He knew the knock to Ryan’s head had to be some sort of minor concussion. Frank scowled, glaring down at the thrashing Brendon. 

“You go ahead,” Frank finally said. “I’m not letting him out of the cuffs until you both are downstairs and in the car.” Frank threw something at Gerard, and as he caught it, he realized they were the keys. “Lock the door, don’t let anyone in but me.”

Gerard nodded and rushed Ryan from the apartment as Brendon screamed and screamed. “His vocal warm ups are going to be hell tomorrow,” Ryan mumbled, sounding almost drunk. That was definitely the head wound. He got Ryan into the car, gently lowering him into the backseat before running back into the apartment to grab Ryan’s solitary bag. Gerard returned and sat in the passenger’s seat, studying Ryan through the rearview mirror. Ryan was sitting slumped against the leather, head lolling to the side. His eyes were far away and misty. Gerard jumped when Frank’s knuckles hit the window before Frank got into his car.

“I’m sorry for ruining your date,” Ryan said, mostly to Frank.

“Are you kidding me?” Frank snorted a laugh after a pregnant pause. “I got to hit the guy who was threatening my date’s best friend. Pretty sure that got me a shit ton of points in the knight in shining armor department. At least twenty, right?”

Gerard saw Frank’s attempt to lighten the mood and appreciated it immensely. “Maybe around fifteen.”

“Jesus, Gee, dude deserves at least fifty,” Ryan slurred. 

Frank started to drive. “So, uh. Who's Josh?”

Gerard frowned. “Josh?”

Frank nodded. “The guy Brendon was screaming about after you guys left.”

Ryan groaned, sounding more sleepy by the moment. “He’s the cute boy who makes mustard hearts on my sandwiches.”

Gerard choked on his own tongue. “Are you cheating on Brendon?”

“Fuck no,” Ryan whined, looking ahead to Gerard with a twisted expression. “You know me, I-I’d never do that. I couldn’t ever…” Ryan trailed off, then groaned loudly in what had to be frustration. “Why is this happening to me, Gee?” He sat up again, leaning forward between the two front seats. “I am so. So. So sorry for ruining your date. I really am, you have no idea how sorry I am.”

“It’s okay, Ry,” Gerard told him. “Besides, you’re gonna have to wake up to Bert tomorrow. You’ll pay your penance.”

“Frank was probably gonna get laid,” Ryan bemoaned. “I ruined it.”

Gerard blushed deeply and Frank awkwardly cleared his throat, his eyes suddenly glued to the road. “Ryan, that’s not…” Except now that Ryan had said it, Gerard realized he was totally willing to let Frank take him to whatever bed and have his way with him. Hell, a back alley or something. Gerard felt like anywhere could feel like heaven with someone like Frank. Frank just oozed confidence and sex appeal like it was as natural as breathing. And no one was born with that type of confidence. It had to be earned.

Gerard shuddered and glanced to Frank, wondering what he was thinking, and if it was the same Gerard. If he was wondering what it would feel like for Gerard to run his hands over the expanse of Frank’s chest, to kiss the scorpion on his neck, to press their bodies together with sinful intent and ride one another to that peak of pleasure. Gerard had to cross his legs and look out the window to try and break his train of thought. Behind him, Ryan snickered.

“God, I really did break up a good date,” he said. Gerard caught his reflection and realized Ryan wasn’t looking at him, meaning he wasn’t referring to Gerard’s struggle. Gerard looked again to Frank and saw the obvious tent in the front of his pants, and sweet jesus, god dammit, mother fuck. 

“I’m gonna be back here,” Ryan slurred. “Bleeding. From a head wound. Pay me no mind.”

Gerard blushed even deeper and almost wished Ryan weren’t there so he could offer Frank some help with his problem. 

“Which way’s home?” Frank asked, his voice tight. “To your place, Gerard? I’m assuming that’s where I’m taking you guys.”

“Go left.”

They were silent when Frank pulled up in front of Gerard’s complex. Ryan was half asleep, regardless of Gerard’s attempts to keep him awake. He was still worried about Ryan’s concussion. “I am sorry things ended like this,” Gerard murmured. “I, uh… I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” He felt like he couldn’t ask for a second chance. “Is this…”

Frank unbuckled. “I’ll help you get him into the house. For a skinny guy, I’ll bet he weighs a shit ton.” Frank flashed him that same toothy grin and climbed out of the car, rounding to reach into the back. He pulled a softly protesting Ryan from his seat, being deceivingly gentle. Gerard rushed out to help him, and they both managed to help Ryan stumble into Gerard’s apartment. The movement woke Ryan up a little more and he blearily looked around before mumbling something about a shower. Ryan stumbled off to the bathroom before either of them could stop him.

“So,” Frank said. They were alone in Gerard’s kitchen, Bert being on the nightshift. 

“So,” Gerard echoed, leaning against the counter. 

Frank smiled easily at him, his back to the fridge. He seemed like he was waiting for something, albeit with much more patience than Gerard had ever really experienced from someone else when it came to himself. There was an easygoing slouch to Frank’s shoulders, like he was completely at peace in someone else’s home. 

Gerard bit his lip and looked down to the tiles. “I, uh. I’ll understand if you’d rather we didn’t see each other again. But I want you to know that I don’t really want this to be the last time I see you outside of work.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Frank said, before quickly crossing the kitchen and pressing his body against Gerard’s, pushing Gerard’s hips into the counter and tangling his fingers in Gerard’s hair to drag him down for a kiss. The relief Gerard felt was almost as good as the gentle pleasure from the kiss. Frank’s lips were chapped from shouting and Gerard realized his hands were shaking. He held to Frank’s hips and let himself sink into the warmth of another human being. 

Strong hands pushed up and under Gerard’s shirt, cold fingertips shocking his skin. Gerard gasped into Frank’s mouth, letting himself deepen the kiss and explore. Frank let out this throaty chuckle when Gerard pushed a little too hard into the kiss and almost knocked the both over. “So eager,” Frank whispered, the sound of his voice deepening sending shivers down Gerard’s spine. “Jesus, you’d think you’d never been treated right before. Had a run of shitty boyfriends?”

“You’ve no idea,” Gerard admitted, turning Frank’s nose with his own to pressed harder into the kiss. “Worst luck. Horrible luck. Until you.”

“Gonna change all of that for you,” Frank wrapped his hands around Gerard’s thighs and, in a shocking feat of strength, lifted Gerard and planted his ass on the counter. Gerard let out an embarrassingly high pitched noise, arms flailing for balance and ending up in Frank’s hair again. He pressed his knees to Frank’s hips, wrapped his legs around the other man to pull their bodies together. Frank groaned against his lips, pressing bruises into Gerard’s thighs with his fingertips. “Just give me one night, baby, and it’ll be like all that bad luck never existed.”

“Can it be more than one?” Gerard asked, knowing the vulnerability had slipped into his voice. 

Frank pulled back from him, grinning like the devil. He opened his mouth to speak just as his phone began to ring. Frank faltered, then groaned unhappily. He pecked Gerard’s swelling lips once more before answering his cell. “You’ve got Detective Iero, who’s this?” He paused, listening. “… Detective Wentz?” he repeated, looking to Gerard with an arched brow. Gerard’s eyes lit up and he nodded almost excited. “Yeah, I’m working the serial killer thing,” Frank continued. “You talked to who? Dr. Ross? Yeah, yeah, I’ve spoken with him. We’re already working together… Of course, I’m excited to work with you.”

Frank winked at Gerard, pulling back to let Gerard slip off the counter. “Uh, yeah, I heard about that. The IDs on scene. Thing is, they’ve never been the IDs of the bodies found at that scene, they’ve always been—” Frank cut himself off. Then he nodded. “Yep. Previous victims. Basically, the IDs are the people who were killed before. So, I’m guessing the IDs you found at the scene are for the Bostwicks, right?” Frank shoved his fist in the air. His assumption had probably been correct. “That’s fucking awesome, dude, that’s good to hear! That means that even though he’s changed his area, his MO is literally the same. So he’s only changed location, meaning we’ve probably got moving records of sometime or something, right? Something to help narrow it down.”

Frank paused again. “Uh, no, I mean… Like, yeah, I’ve talked to Dr. Ross, and Mr. Way. I’m, uhm, I’m kinda… with them now?” Frank shrugged, making a distressed face over at Gerard. He probably had no idea if Gerard was out or not. “Uh, nothing, we’re just all hanging out, I guess, why does it—”

Cut off again, though this time, Frank looked a little less intrigued. If anything, he lost blood in his face. “… That can’t be right.”

Gerard took a tentative step towards Frank, cautious. He reached out, resting a hand on Frank’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure if Frank actually needed to be comforted or not, but he looked extremely upset regardless. Frank listened silently for a long moment, before nodding. “I’ll bring Mr. Way. Dr. Ross is a little hung up at the moment. I’m sure Mr. Way will explain to you later.” He hung up, the motion mechanical and aged.

“What’s happening?” Gerard asked. “Is something wrong?”

Frank shook his head. “Grab your gear. I don’t think Ryan’s able to do any of his work shit right now, so it’s up to you. I need you to come with me. We’ll make sure Ryan’s all tucked in and shit, but after that, we’re leaving.”

Gerard just stood there, feeling a little stupid. “Frank? What’s happening?”

Frank dialed a number on his phone and held it back to his ear. He barely spared Gerard a glance when he said, “they just found two more bodies. His MO is falling apart, meaning we’re gonna see a lot of carnage coming our way.”

Frank looked to the ground. “… I’m sorry, Gee. For all the confident shit I’ve been throwing, I’m suddenly realizing that maybe you and I starting something was a bad idea.”

“Why would you think that?” Gerard asked, trying to be considerate. 

“Everything’s kinda going to hell, and it steadily has been since the first couple was found,” Frank sighed. “And honestly, I was putting off relationships and intimacy for ages and ages because of this job, and I foolishly let myself let my guard down and notice you. And I just… I really don’t think I have the energy for both, Gerard. Especially if the unsub is escalating.”

Gerard shrugged. “I dunno. I think you were doing really well at balance until that phone call.”

Frank grinned wryly. “Who knows. Maybe I can keep it up for a little longer, right? But if it starts to get in the way…”

“Then we stop,” Gerard finished for him. “That was kinda how I assumed it would always be, to tell you the truth. Both of us know what this job does to to people, how it draws you in and runs you ragged. And we both love it either way.” Gerard let his hand fall from Frank’s shoulder to his hand. “We’re still new, you and I. As long as we both understand what we expect of one another, I think everything will be fine between us.”

“You think?” Frank asked, meeting Gerard’s eyes with a little hope of his own.

“I’m sure it will. The murder, probably not so much. But we’re gonna just take it slow and remember that we’ve got some people to save first.” Gerard smiled at Frank and did his very best to look as confident as fucking possible. He leaned in a kissed Frank one last time for the night. “Let me grab my kit. I can be the corpse collector for one night.”

“I still think you’re Superman,” Frank said, watching Gerard go. “My Superman.”

Gerard blushed as he grabbed his stylish briefcase. He looked to his bed and saw Ryan had passed out in his bed, soaking wet and in his jeans. The worry for Ryan’s head was overshadowed by the urgency of murder. Gerard knew he would be fine. He left Ryan a note, and then followed Gerard out the door to the car, ready to investigate.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyyyyy sorry had massive writers block for this but i finagled some shit out here ya go
> 
> thanks **babyashleym** for being the beta

**Two Months Later**

“Little faster, baby, little faster, little faster,” Frank was begging, just barely able to hold on to Gerard’s hips as Gerard bounced up and down on his lap. Gerard’s cum was cooling on Frank’s stomach, his legs were sore, and he was pretty sure he’d fucked up his shoulder from being thrown onto the sofa. But Frank was close, Gerard could feel it, and Gerard really wanted to know what Frank spilling inside of him felt like - that he was good enough at this to bring him to the edge. 

Frank’s chest was bright red and splattered with cum, the tendons in his neck strained as he arched his body up into Gerard. Blunt nails dug into Gerard’s thick thighs, and then Frank was groaning loudly, curling his toes and filling the condom. Gerard smiled breathlessly to himself and finally stopped his fervent riding, falling into a slow grind of his hips to really draw out Frank’s pleasure. Frank pressed his face into the cushion beneath him and moaned softly, rolling his body up and thrusting shallowly. Gerard gasped, his body still sensitive from his own orgasm, and planted a firm hand on Frank’s stomach. “S-stop,” he stuttered, feeling a little embarrassed at how transparently undone he still was. Frank grinned, wide and toothy, then smacked Gerard’s thigh.

“My leg’s falling asleep,” he said. “Where do you wanna move this party to?”

“The shower,” Gerard sighed. “We have to be at the bullpen in less than an hour.”

Frank groaned and slapped Gerard’s thigh again, a little harder, like he was frustrated. “Fuck this. Haven’t found anything in weeks. Fuck Pete. Fuck murder. Fuck everything. Just wanna fuck you.”

“You kinda have been,” Gerard said with a soft laugh. “You did last night. And the day before. And then three days before that.”

“Wow, Gerard, thank you for the intelligent response,” Frank bit out sarcastically. “I’m so happy that you have such an extensive knowledge of when we fuck, to the approximate twenty-four hour timeline. It really shows me how much you care about the sex we have. Maybe I’ll be able to have faith in your non-sexual feelings for me one day too, huh? As much faith as I have in your sexual feelings.”

Gerard paused, thinking slowly. “… Do you wanna call in sick together?”

“Fuck that, that’s so fucking obvious. Leave Ry to Pete? That’s cruel, Gee, he’s supposed to be your friend.”

Gerard giggled and lifted himself carefully off of Frank's softening cock. There was something about having mundane conversations with your boyfriend’s dick so nonchalantly inside of you. It felt weirdly like contentment. It definitely felt like being wanted. “I’m gonna take a quick shower,” he said. “Clean up, the maid shouldn't have to clean up after this sort of thing again.” He went into the tiny bathroom and started up the shower, expertly working the handles to settle on the perfect warmth. 

“I’m still shocked with how a fucking hotel room has started to feel like home," Frank sighed. He sat up, then bounded after Gerard, following him into the bathroom. “Get that big, bodacious booty into that shower, I’m coming in.” He smacked Gerard on the ass, shoved him into the shower. He kissed him until the mirror was fogged beyond any visibility and Ryan started spamming his phone with messages demanding to know where Gerard was.

They were late to the bullpen, and Ryan threw a pen at Gerard once he finally came through the door with Frank just behind him. Ryan made a face at him, sticking his tongue out when Gerard managed to dodge the pen. “You guys are so in trouble,” Ryan drawled, sounding like he was mocking a preteen girl in middle school. “You’re gonna go to the principle’s office.”

“Nice of you guys to join us,” Pete said, smiling despite the annoyance Gerard could see in the drum of his fingers on the desk. “We were just talking about the murders of innocent victims of our society, you know. Nothing big.”

“Sorry, we were having sex,” Frank deadpanned. He was fearless. Gerard though, was mortified and quickly shuffled to the desk Ryan was sitting at, taking the chair beside his mentor. Ryan snorted and tapped Gerard’s knee with two fingers, mouthing ‘you got lucky?’ to Gerard. Gerard just blushed and hid behind his hair. “It was good sex, too,” Frank continued. “Gerard’s a succubus.”

“Incubus would be the male term,” Ryan chimed in.

Frank winked over at Ryan. “I know.”

“Wow, Gee, you’re a bottom bitch,” Ryan said. 

“Literally no one would contest that fact,” Frank said.

“Can we please focus?” Pete implored. “The media spokesman for the department will be here any second now, we need to get our facts straight before—”

Pete was cut off by the doors opening again, and a short man with a serious expression and piercing eyes walking into the bullpen. Ryan choked on a strangled sound, and Gerard had to keep from laughing too. Everyone knew Det. Wentz was harboring a longtime crush on the media rep, Patrick Stump. Everyone knew Pete lived in a constant struggle to try and impress the unimpressionable man. 

Patrick crossed his arms across his chest and managed to look formidable for a man who had cherub cheeks and was even shorter than Frank. Patrick Stump should’ve been an interrogator, in Gerard’s opinion. He was way too stoic for anyone to stand against. “You have something for me,” Patrick said. “You have to. We go on air in an hour, and I need something.”

The last two months had been a shit show. After Gerard had gone and studied the two very fresh bodies that had been found for Frank, the investigation had slowed to a crawl. Frank was stumped, and it was obvious in the way he drank way more coffee than was healthy for any individual of his stature. The hardest part of this case was the huge pool of possible victims. Couples went missing all the time, usually from concerned friends of couples that took impromptu vacations. Since there was no defined sexuality, gender, or criminal record for any of the victims, it was impossible to narrow anything down. Every missing couple in the entirety of the city was a possibility. And that number was just too high for them to handle. 

The bodies hadn’t said much either, as they’d only been held by the killer for no more than a few days. They’d been drained of their blood, but not much else. Investigation into their identities proved why.

Mrs. and Mr. Montego had had their child taken away by protective services, yes, but the case had quickly been overturned when it was revealed that the signs of abuse had been coming from the babysitter, and not the parents. The killer had made a mistake. He’d taken the wrong victims, which meant that his insight into the records of these people were actually surface value, at best. That didn’t help in narrowing down the list of suspects Pete and Frank barely had in the first place. The case was proving to be impossible. Frank was reaching the end of his rope, and often said that Gerard was really the only thing keeping him sane. 

Gerard just wished he and Ryan could be more help. They’d been studying the bodies they had extensively, even observing the decay of the Montegos. There had been a public outcry over the bodies not being released to the surviving family, and that was really when the media had finally gained an interest in the case, hence the press conference Patrick was about to dive into. God, Patrick did not seem very happy with any of them.

“No one’s volunteering any information to me,” Patrick said, sounding decidedly annoyed. “Which makes me think that we’ve barely got any sort of case here. Am I right to assume that?”

“If you’d like to read the giant fucking files we have on the victims, you’d know we have a case,” Frank said, arms crossed over his chest as well in defiance. “We haven’t just been sitting here, twiddling our thumbs. Ryan and Gerard are elbows deep in a body every day, and Pete and I have interviewed every single family member we can get our hands on.”

“So who’s our prime suspect?” Patrick asked, not stepping down. No one answered. “Do we even have a prime suspect?” he demanded.

“We’re working on it,” Pete said, sounding like it physically pained him to seem anything less than awesome to Patrick Stump. “We just, we’ve really hit a wall, but we’re going to work around it.”

“And you want me to tell that to the press?” Patrick asked slowly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Pete,” he began firmly. “We have people out there, dying. Parents. Families being destroyed. Regardless of whether or not the families were any good doesn’t make the concept any less terrifying to anyone with a kid in this city. Do you know how high of a number that is? If we don’t come off like we’re the coolest cucumbers in the nation, the department won’t be respected for the next three generations. We’ll be the laughing stock of the entire state, do you understand that? Everyone will think we’re not taking this shit seriously. I’ll probably lose my job. You might lose your jobs. Give me some real shit to work with before I end up homeless.”

Pete looked absolutely stricken.

“The public barely has any idea of what’s happening,” Frank huffed. "They won’t know that we barely know a thing. Just give them the general idea and they’ll believe it because they have nothing else to go off of.”

“Don’t we even have some sort of profile?” Patrick asked. “They’re going to ask who we’re going for. I’ll make something up about confidentiality, I won’t give anything definite, but we’ve got to at least have some sort of criminal profile, right? Some idea of who we’re looking for.”

“Gerard’s given us a general idea of—”

 _”Gerard?!”_ Patrick’s voice cracked as he interrupted Pete. Pete’s ears would’ve been folded back if he were a dog. "You've been using Gerard! You’ve been using him for your psychological bullshit, are you fucking kidding me?! He isn’t certified! He isn’t even in school for this shit! You can’t fucking use a nobody for one of the biggest aspects of your case and except there not to be a riot! What if this goes to court? What if we have to bring him up for the statements and they see Gerard has literally no background? The entire case will be thrown out!”

“I’ve been on cases without certification,” Ryan said, frowning. 

“You’re a fucking genius, Corpse Collector, shut up,” Patrick snapped.

“Don’t call him that!” Frank interjected, scowling. “Both Gerard and Ryan are doing more work in this case than most of your entire fucking force, so cut them some fucking slack! You guys don’t have a profiler or anyone available, there’s literally no one else we could have reached out to.”

“This entire case will be a scam if you bring Gerard onto a podium,” Patrick bit out. Pete was basically wilting away in the background. Gerard felt pity for him. “You need to bring on a legitimate profiler, do you understand? An actual fucking certified psychologist, with enough of a reputation to give us some sort of leg up on this. And whether or not they agree with the shit Gerard's told you doesn’t matter, but you are going to listen to him.”

“Fair enough,” Pete said, voice low. “I want Tyler Joseph.”

Patrick made a face. “… Tyler Joseph, the school counselor they put on that rape case last year?”

“The one and only,” Pete said. “We all know he’s overqualified for the position he has. He has a fucking doctorate, he’s nearly at the same IQ level as Ryan. You’ve seen him in action, you know what he can do.” Pete paused. “He’s also gonna be cheaper. And he’s available.”

Patrick pushed his glasses up his head and pinched at the bridge of his nose. “Cheap, huh?” he asked after a moment. “And available. I guess that’s what matters. Not at all their experience or ability. I wanted experience, Pete. _Experience._ That kid’s only been on one fucking case.”

“One violent crime case,” Pete clarified. “He’s been in on a ton of domestic abuse cases, primarily ones involving kids. His parents were CPS, employees of the state, giving him a solid enough standing in the law enforcement world. He’s trustworthy and he’s young and that means that they can’t pull any bullshit about his mental state of mind.”

“But they can pull bullshit about experience,” Patrick reiterated.

“We just need a profile with a stamp of approval from someone with a doctoral degree,” Frank sighed. “If Pete thinks this guy’s good, then he must be good enough. It’s not like we’re going to have him in the interrogation room or anything, and it’s not like he’s going to see anything super confidential. We just need something basic so you don’t tear our heads off.”

Patrick looked like he wanted to smack all of them. “Fine,” he bit out. “Just tell me what I’m telling the press.”

“All of the bodies ranged across the sexes, races, and ages,” Ryan said. “We have a paint sample in analysis. All major limbs were severed and the bodies were laid with the limbs pressed to the body like they were normal, save the previous couple. All of the bodies were drained of their blood through the achilles. And all of them were kept for the decaying process, for at least a month, before being brought to the area the bodies were found in. All fingerprints removed.”

“The identification cards of each couple were found on the proceeding couple,” Frank said. “They all had strenuous relationships with their children, some being taken by CPS, some reporting problems with the home life. All of the couples were married. The only inconsistency was the latest couple from two months ago, who were not having problems with their kid. This is probably the reason why he only kept the parents for a few days, then hastily got rid of them.”

“Not because he thought he was going to get caught, but because he realized that he wasn’t taking his aggressions out on the right victim,” Gerard said, keeping his voice low. 

“We’re using the pronoun him,” Patrick said. “Any particular reason for that?”

“The brutality we’re observing in the victims could only suggest a male,” Gerard replied. “This kind of senseless violence and torture is rare to find in women. Also, women are more likely to act violently on their families than random strangers. The whole serial killer thing is really a man’s world.”

“Pretty sure we’ll never have someone screaming for equal representation in that aspect of society,” Patrick grumbled. “Fine, it’s probably a dude. He probably had shitty parents. Anything else?”

“He has to have some connection to the government,” Pete said. “How else would he know which kids were taken in by CPS?”

“It’s not Tyler Joseph, right?” Frank suddenly asked, eyes wide. “Like, smart. CPS connections. Is this Tyler guy super creepy or anything?”

Pete almost laughed. “Tyler Joseph is one of the most fragile little things you’ll ever meet,” he told Frank. “He makes Ryan look like an MMA fighter. He was shaking every time he got called up in court, he's literally incapable of hurting anyone or anything. Last time I met him, he told me the story of how he ran over a lizard in the street. Dude was so somber, you’d think he ran over a child.”

“That could just be a really good cover,” Frank said.

"You're paranoid,” Pete said. “It’s not Tyler Joseph.”

“So we’re bringing the school psych in on this?” Patrick asked, sounding like he still thought it was a bad idea. “You’re going to have to really build up his credibility. List the cases he’s been on, but don’t mention the type. We want him to seem seasoned for his age. It’s already bad enough we’ve got Ryan on this.”

“Oh my god, you asshole,” Ryan deadpanned, looking like he really didn’t care. “I’m younger than you. Sue me. At least my dick still works.”

“My dick works perfectly, thank you very much,” Patrick said. “I’d say I’d prove it to you, but I’m pretty sure you’d like that a little too much.” Patrick kicked the desk with the toe of his foot. “Okay. Great. I’m just gonna give them the lowdown on the bodies, say we’re working on building a profile with our new psych guy, then give them some bullshit about staying home after dark. When were these people all kidnapped?”

“No idea,” Pete sighed. “None of them were reported immediately. We don’t have any definite time that they may have gone missing. We just know they had to be taken from public places and were dropped at public places.”

“Houses showed no sign of breaking and entering?” Patrick asked.

Pete shook his head. “None. And no one at the homes ever reported anything. They were taken while they were away. And they may have been taken in staggered events, though likely in the same day.”

Patrick ran a hand over his face. “Is this all you guys know? Really?”

“Not for lack of trying," Frank griped.

“I can see that,” Patrick sighed. “Once this press conference is over, it’ll be in the papers. After that, hysteria will sweep the city. You’ll probably get inundated with calls, which means you’ll either find some great leads or be overwhelmed. Whatever it is, you will be expected to update the public periodically, or at least until people forget that this shit ever happened. So long as no other bodies show up, we’ll be fine. Do we know if anyone else has been taken?”

“We don’t know shit,” Pete admitted.

Patrick groaned. “… Can you guys give me anything? Anything at all?”

Pete winced. 

“Pete can give you a kiss for good luck,” Ryan said. 

“Fuck you, Ryan, what the fuck,” Pete said.

“Fuck all of you,” Patrick said. “You're sending me to the dogs with a necklace of steak around my neck. Fuck you guys.” He tapped the tabletop with his knuckles. “Alright. Fine. Maybe I will take that kiss.” Pete went violently red and Patrick snorted, not noticing Pete, then turned and left the room. 

Pete was mortified. Frank snickered. “Lunch,” Pete said. “I’m going to get lunch.”

“That’s our cue," Ryan said, kicking out and pulling Gerard with him. 

They left the building and went to grab sandwiches from the sub shop next door before heading back to the mortuary and lab. Gerard could smell his meatball sandwich and knew Frank was going to give him shit for it later that night. At least Ryan had gotten the Italian sub, so he was going to get just as much shit if Frank decided to pay them a visit. 

Ryan dropped into his desk and put his legs up on the table. “I want my paint sample, Gerard,” he said, sounding a little peeved. “I wanted that paint sample back yesterday.”

“You sent it in yesterday,” Gerard reminded him, opening up the paper around his lunch. He moaned softly as the scent of marinara and meat hit him in the face. “This is good shit,” he said. “This is really good shit.”

“Pretty sure you’re only allowed two orgasms a day on this job,” Ryan told him. “I need you to focus.”

“Focus on what?" Gerard forced himself to look away from the beautiful sandwich to Ryan instead. “What is there to focus on? We’ve looked over the bodies more than we’ve taken slept these past months. There’s nothing else we can do, right? Not until your paint sample comes back.” Ryan had found a fleck of yellow paint in the hair of the last woman found, but he’d only been able to get a clean enough sample until last week. And then there had been an issue with shipments going out because of the surrounding snowstorm and Ryan had only been able to send it in for analysis yesterday. 

“I need you to focus,” Ryan said again. “On how much better my sandwich is.”

Gerard stared at him. 

“We’re getting paid to eat,” Ryan said. “This is the life.”

“Surrounded by dead people,” Gerard reminded him, even though the concept had never bothered him before. 

“The dead are kinder,” Ryan said. “They pass no judgement. Though for once, I wish they would, so that we could solidify the fact that my sandwich is ten times better than yours.”

“Ryan, what have you got against meatballs?”

“The Swedish are too beautiful to be human,” Ryan said.

“What the hell does that have to do with meatballs?” Gerard asked. 

“The Swedish have everything to do with meatballs,” Ryan snorted. “And you and I really need to find something else for these guys. Did you see Pete? He looked so fucked up. He hates letting Patrick down.”

“He needs to just confess,” Gerard said.

Ryan made a face. “Pete’s married.”

“I’m sure he could work something out with his wife.”

Ryan shook his head, then brought his sandwich to his mouth, opening his jaw wide with eyes full of delight. Then there was a knock on their door, and Ryan smacked his sandwich onto the table with an overdramatic cry of frustration. “I wanna eat with my corpses, you fuckers!” Ryan shouted at the closed door as he stood to open it. “Give the Corpse Collector a moment of fucking peace and quiet!” He threw the door open, then faltered. Gerard couldn’t read Ryan’s face as a smaller man came into the room. 

He was skinny and pale. He had a buzzcut and was clutching a bag to his chest, smiling brightly at them both. “Hi!” he said with endless amounts of energy. The guy was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. He looked far too colorful to be in the mortuary. “I’m Tyler Joseph. I was sent down here by Det. Wentz to check out the files you guys have on the bodies.”

Ryan’s eyes lit up. “Do you want to see them?” he asked.

Tyler blinked several times. “… W-what?”

“Do you wanna see the bodies?” Gerard knew this schtick. It really wasn’t any wonder how Ryan had gotten the Corpse Collector nickname with how he treated people who had never been in his mortuary before. Ryan would always show off the bodies like they were trophies, dialing up his crazy just to make things fun. “I can show you them,” Ryan said, dragging his voice across concrete. “I can show you everything.”

Tyler perked up. “Sure! That’s really what I need, after all. I can’t draw any real conclusions without seeing the bodies, and I would really prefer to see them hands-on so I can really be confident should I have to give any information in court.”

Ryan’s act dropped just as quickly as he’d brought it on when he realized he wasn’t going to get anything out of this cheerful guy. “Fine, sure,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “Read the files first, though, I need to eat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt you?”

Gerard handed Tyler the files and then pushed Tyler his chair so the other man could sit at his desk. Tyler had handled Ryan’s act very well. Gerard felt like he deserved to be treated well. Gerard went down on his knees next to Ryan’s desk to eat his food, ignoring how Ryan narrowed his eyes at him for getting into his personal space.

“Who wrote these?” Tyler asked after a few moments of silence that were only broken up by the sounds of chewing. Gerard raised his hand, as his mouth was full. “These are really good,” Tyler told him. “Most case files I’ve read sound like they were written by a third grader with no actual experience. This is kinda nice.”

“Uh, thanks,” Gerard said. 

“Do you guys have any sort of criminal background sorted out for possible suspects?” Tyler asked.

“I thought you were a high school counselor,” Ryan said.

“I am,” Tyler confirmed. “I like working with kids. I have a lot of friends who went through stuff when they were younger. It really got me interested in the developmental side of psychology. I’m actually working on a study with a university professor on prepubescent eating habits and if there’s any correlation to later onsets of depression or developed mental illness.”

Ryan looked mildly impressed. Gerard knew he, himself, looked very impressed. He would’ve never been able to specialize in young adults and teens, because he knew the stress and pain kids went through these days would be too much for himself. He would’ve never been able to detach himself from the problems and not feel every inch of their agony. Tyler Joseph was a special kind of person that was very much needed in society today. 

“These really are good,” Tyler said, looking back to the files. “You guys have done some really extensive work.”

“How would you know?” Ryan asked as he ate.

“I wrote my thesis on the effect of violent deaths in a family on young adults,” Tyler replied. “It included me sifting through quite a few murder and manslaughter cases, then reaching out to the children. Basically, if a therapist had stuck around with Batman and done a psychoanalysis on him when he was eighteen.”

“Oh god, no,” Ryan groaned.

“I love Batman,” Gerard blurted out. “Do you read comics? I read a ton of comics, I used to want to draw them, too. Do you have a favorite hero? Or anti hero? Or villain? The latest movies have really made the villains appealing to the masses, it’s really incredible.”

Tyler laughed, the sound almost reminiscent of Frank’s giggles. “I like comics, though probably not as much as you do, from the sound of it. Your friend sounds like he hears about these things a lot.”

“Ryan’s a butt, he thinks he knows more than I do for how much I talk about comics.”

“I do know more!” Ryan cried out. “Because you forget half the shit you say! But I don’t. I don’t, and I have to hear it over and over again, and I swear to god, Gerard, if I have to hear about how Richard Grayson is the best Robin but the worst Batman, I will jump in front of a bus.”

Tyler squinted at the name written on the door. “… Ryan?”

Ryan looked to him, expression steady. “Yes.”

“Ryan Ross.”

“Yes.”

Tyler gasped. “Oh my god, you’re the sandwich boy!”

Ryan narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“The sandwich boy!” Tyler repeated, smiling brightly. “You’re the boy Josh has a crush on!”

All of the blood drained from Ryan’s face, and Gerard cackled.

“Don’t tell him this is my job,” Ryan said. “Please. He thinks I’m normal and gives me extra mustard and I really, really don’t want to ruin this shit. I’m lonely and he has a cute smile and he’s also fucking hot as hell. Do not ruin this for me.”

“Oh my god, this is so cute,” Tyler giggled. “He’s smitten. Dude, he’s gonna be so impressed. You’re a fucking doctor! You solve murders! You’re like a hero! Oh my gosh.” Tyler started to wave his hands around like an excited little kid. “I, I won’t say anything, I promise. Oh my gosh.” 

Tyler fanned himself. “Okay. Okay. I’m cool.” He looked to the files. “Did any of these people have past experiences of physical abuse? Particularly from parents?”

Ryan frowned. “… Should we find out?”

Gerard grabbed a notebook and started to take notes.

“It’s a good possibility to consider,” Tyler said. “To help narrow down your search when looking for future victims.”

“I mean, if you think so, I’ll tell Pete,” Ryan said.

“You know what I find kinda funny about all of this?” Tyler was obviously asking a hypothetical. “The way the perp treats the sexuality of his victims. If he were older, he would likely show signs of heightened violence towards the homosexual couples. Or, he would have ignored these couples entirely, signifying that he doesn’t see them as real parents. The fact that there’s no divide in the violence between the differing sexualities suggest him to be a much younger person.”

Ryan was now visibly impressed. “That’s a good point.”

“Also, what kind of person do you know can stand to watch bodies decay like this? It’s one thing to be able to murder someone, but to wade in the aftermath and actually observes the steps of decomposition… Like, they’d have to be like you guys. And they’d have to have some sort of back ground with the human body, but again, they’re young.” Tyler tapped his pen on the desk. “… Maybe a parent in the medical field? Or a forensics background like you? I doubt a sibling, as there’s no reflection of siblings in the murders, no retaliation on siblings of any kind. All of the couples only have one child, right?”

Ryan nodded. “Single child, orphaned.”

“So should we assume that the perp was orphaned? Or that he wished he could kill his parents and live without them?” Tyler rubbed at his forehead. “Hmm. What a conundrum.”

Gerard bit his lip. “Do you think you can give us a profile? Preferably soon? I’m sure you know how this works, we just really need something to work with, or at least tell the media. So we can focus.”

“I can definitely help you guys narrow some things down,” Tyler said. “It’s really awesome that Pete asked for me. I can barely remember the guy, but I apparently left enough of an impression.” He grinned up at Ryan and Josh. “That’s the idea, right? Do a good enough job so that you’ll be remembered? I’ve been hired as a consultant on this case, so I know I’ve got enough of a lasting reputation. Just gotta solidify the whole deal. Or whatever.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Ryan said. “Just remember this is a serial killer. We do have people dying en mass, at a steady rate, and in a really horrible way.”

Gerard snorted. Ryan was the last person to preach on cruelty. Ryan had the moral compass of a serial killer himself. The only range he had when it came to murder was from boring to absolutely fascinating. 

“Exsanguination can be terrible,” Tyler sighed. “Especially if you’re conscious. Were there signs of them being conscious?”

Ryan shook his head. “Bodies are too decayed to show signs of a struggle.”

“What about in the last couple found?”

“They were only kept for three days,” Ryan said. “Unfortunately, most observations we make from their corpses cannot be held as a set of data that can be related to the rest of the victims. They're obvious outliers. If anything, the fact that he didn’t do any of his usual stuff with the victims tells us almost as much as the continuity he had with all the others.”

“You could definitely draw some strong conclusions,” Tyler agreed. “You know what you could also do?”

“What?” Gerard asked. 

“Ryan could ask Josh on a date.”

“Oh my fucking god.”

“I don’t like cursing,” Tyler said with a scrunched nose. 

“I’m not gonna ask Josh out,” Ryan said. “I promised I wouldn’t until this man is behind bars. No distractions.” Ryan held out a piece of paper. “This has all of the names and contact information of all the victims. If you want to find out about home lives and shit like that, abusive parents, possible connections, then this will be your golden ticket.”

“What about the surviving children?” Tyler asked.

“We’ve been respectfully requested not to ask the kids any questions,” Ryan said. Tyler looked a little miffed by this.

“That’s a huge amount of information that you’re not giving yourself,” Tyler said. “All of these victims are from the same area, save the last couple, and that’s after what we assumed to have been the move for the perp. The likelihood of the perp having lived, or at least been a frequent visitor of the neighborhood, is impossibly high. The kids could have noticed someone!”

“Talk to the foster parents, not me,” Ryan sighed.

“You need to talk to the kids,” Tyler insisted. “If not just two of them. The child of the latest victims from Jersey, and then the child of the last couple found, the ones that were only kept a couple days. If they can match up a face, then we’ve got our perp, because they’re far enough apart.”

“Dude, do you think we don’t know this?” Ryan shook his head. “Pete and Frank have been over this a thousand times. But unfortunately, they can’t go, as direct employees of the state. And neither can I, as head of the forensics department. We’re under too much scrutiny. It just wouldn’t work.”

Tyler paused. “… What if I just happened to go to the same park as those kids?”

“If you went by yourself, without some employee of the law represented with you, you would be arrested. Also, you don’t know what questions to really ask these kids and your statement would be thrown out the window. And uh, single men should not be seen with small children in parks.”

Tyler paused again. Then his eyes dragged across Ryan to Gerard. “What if I took him with me?”

Ryan pursed his lips. “You’d be risking getting him in a lot of trouble. We’d barely be able to have this statement on the stand anyways. The kids are protected.”

“We don’t really need their statements with all the other evidence we’d have on this guy,” Tyler said. “The profile would fit him to a T, I'm willing to bet my life on it. And this paint sample? The one I read you’ve got sent out somewhere? I’ll also bet my life that that paint sample will lead back to him, somehow. Yellow is the most uniquely mixed color. And if we get a confession?” Tyler put his hands in the air. “I’m just saying, eye witness accounts are a bust these days anyways. We just need a sketch of a face. A job. Something even a kid would know.”

Ryan blew out a long breath. Gerard knew Ryan knew Tyler was right. “Pete doesn’t hear a word of this,” Ryan said firmly. “And as far as anyone knows, neither did I. And Gerard? Gerard thought he was getting ice cream.”

“Deal,” Tyler said. “Do you have the new addresses of the kids?”

Ryan shook his head. “They thought it would be best to keep the kids in their same schools, though. You can probably find them there. Please tell me you understand how fucking illegal this is. And also how damaging it could be to these kids.”

“The one I’m looking to talk to is twelve years old,” Tyler said. “Old enough to understand how the questions I’m going to ask will help others. And then the latest couple - their daughter was ten. That’s still old enough.” Tyler looked like he was convincing himself. Gerard was sure he still felt regret. “If this is what has to happen to more kids from losing their parents, however terrible their parents are, then it must be done.”

“You know that won’t fly in court,” Ryan said.

“Don’t they do underhand stuff like this all the time in TV?” Tyler asked. 

“Yeah, and everyone watching those shows who have those sorts of jobs know that those people would be fucking fired,” Ryan sighed. “The most you’re doing is giving up the possibility of being hired on again. And probably losing your job. So, yeah, you’re gonna get fired.”

“I need to talk to just one of the kids,” Tyler said. “The girl. Ten years old. She wouldn’t be in the same place as the rest of them, right? You’ve gotta help me out, here, I can’t make a profile from dead people without talking to someone who’s alive.”

“How will talking to the girl with the put together parents help you figure out the guy who’s killing bad parents?”

Tyler held up the case file. “Because she reported a nightmare that she thought she was awake for. Meaning she was there when the parents were taken.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes, then wheeled his chair across the room to look over Tyler’s shoulder. “Where the fuck did you get that from?” Tyler pointed to some words that Gerard couldn’t really read from here. “What the fuck?” Ryan snatched the paper from Tyler and shoved it into Gerard’s face. “How the fuck did your boyfriend miss this?”

Gerard crossed his eyes, then just took the paper from Ryan. He read it over quickly. ‘Daughter reports having heard noises and speaking and shouting one night while the parents were reportedly away, but she retracted her statement, stating the sounds were likely from a dream.’ “Oh shit,” Gerard said. 

“Damn right,” Ryan said. “Spank Frank later for me. You and Tyler need to do something really illegal.” He slapped some folders closed, wrote down an address on a sticky note, and then stuck the note to Gerard’s arm. “Be at that place by tomorrow tonight with anything you’ve gotten from the girl. You’re right, Tyler, she wasn’t in the same area as the others, but I can tell you that she does ballet and is continuing to do so as part of her orphan therapy thing. And it just so happens to be next to my favorite pastry shop. Which means you guys are gonna come over for cupcakes and tell me all about that awesome ballet class you saw.”

“How do you know so much about the girl?” Tyler asked. 

“Lingering guilt,” Ryan said. He turned to Gerard. “Can I trust you with this, Gee? You’ve never done anything like this before.”

“I’ve done illegal things,” Gerard defended.

“Jumping a fence or two doesn’t count.” Ryan brushed him off. “Tyler, if you get my boy sent to prison, I will fuck up your pretty face.” He grinned back at Gerard. “Take no survivors.”

Gerard nodded and took in a deep breath. He has his mission. Time to be like Batman and solve the crime.


	4. Authors Note

To start off, I just wanted to put this out there and say that “I’m sorry.” I know I have a couple totally awesome people out there who love the stuff I write, and that means the god damn, fucking world to me, please believe me. It’s amazing to know I have people who look forward to me writing about their favorite band members, and to know that it’s been, like, two years and some of you are still here? That’s amazing.

That’s why I am so sorry to tell you that I have to leave this story unfinished. Things have been going very badly in my head lately and I’m no longer able to really listen to this music anymore, or look at most of the band members’ faces. There are a few exceptions, but lately the idea of writing them has become almost anxiety inducing. I don’t want to march around and claim I’ve got worse off than anyone else, saying “I’ve had a bad year,” because I honestly can’t think of any who’s had a “good year” anymore.

I had someone very close in my life who really helped me dive into bandom and these musicians and this music. Come October, it’ll be a year since she basically kicked me to the curb. I know most people would see that as a shitty excuse, but the relationship I had with that girl wasn’t really healthy at all. It was really on the verge of stockholm syndrome and I’ve been trying to get better, but as of this past month, my mental health has been decreasing drastically. And I’m already pretty fucked up, mentally, so there really isn’t much left to lose. 

Since I can’t really face a lot of things I shared in common with this dumb girl from a year ago, I won’t be writing much bandom in the foreseeable future, either. Bad association and all of that dumb psych shit that I can easily diagnose, yet can’t treat in myself. 

What some of you may see as unfair is that I’ll still be writing stuff for those silly youtubers, so I just wanted to explain— those dumb guys on the screen playing video games is the first time in a long time that I’ve liked something on my own, without any connection to any personal relationship. They’re literally the last interest I have in my life that isn’t hand-in-hand with a shit ton of baggage. And they make me feel an inking better, so I’m just kinda doing my best to focus on the stuff that makes me feel okay and numb out the rest until I feel more like myself again.

I’m sorry that I have to do this and I’m really sorry if it upsets any of you. Maybe I’ll be able to return to this story and finish it sometime, but I really don’t have an answer for that as of now. I’m kinda just taking it a day at a time before things get any worse. Which would be an incredible feat, considering things are hella bad right now, no lie. 

Thank you for understanding. Sorry I did this. 

I hope to see all of you guys again sometime. You’re really the best <3 I would’ve given up writing long ago if it weren’t for those of you that cheered me on. Thanks for giving me the confidence in my ability that I have now. While I may seem all gloom and doom in writing this, I can promise you that writing is the best thing I have in my life right now and I wouldn’t have it if you guys hadn’t been reading.

Thank you.


End file.
